


Sacrilege

by goresque



Series: Taken In Hand [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fisting, BDSM, Bondage, Developing Relationship, Kink Negotiation, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Objectification, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25826590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Megatron begins a long road to submission, something that doesn’t come naturally to him. With Rung’s help, he learns to enjoy it.
Relationships: Megatron/Rung (Transformers), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Taken In Hand [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571881
Comments: 83
Kudos: 93





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello here I am again with more smut. This will be a very small miniseries about how Megatron came to play with Rung.
> 
> Chronologically this takes place very early on, when Megatron’s only partner is Ratchet.
> 
> The actual smut starts next chapter

Ratchet had stood him up. Again. 

Megatron pushed his empty cube away as he flipped a few credit chits onto the bar. He had stayed for his one allotted drink of the night hoping that it would curb the bitter feeling in the pit of his tank. It wasn’t Ratchet’s fault. Being one of the oldest medics left alive of the Cybertronian race meant taking up a large amount of responsibility when it came to reconstruction. Sometimes, there was no one other than Ratchet who could fix the problem.

Which was exactly his problem now. 

They had planned to meet at  _ Visages _ after Ratchet’s shift, a scene all planned out. They hadn’t accounted for emergency surgeries that besides Ratchet, the nearest medic who could complete it was likely on Velocitron.

_ [Sorry this has to happen on our night. We’ll reschedule,] _ Ratchet had promised over comm. Megatron chose to believe him, but hadn’t responded. 

Even so, Megatron ached to be made exquisite through pain. There was an itch under his armor and kibble that begged to be scratched, a part of his spark that longed for the whip.

He’d really been looking forward to it.

“Excuse me, is someone sitting here?”

Megatron was disturbed from his brooding by a polite voice. He directed his gaze downward to… someone he was sure he’d met before, but his name was eluding him. Megatron shook his helm and motioned to the bar stool beside him.

The mech in question wasn’t quite a minibot, but close to it. He pulled himself up onto the high stool with dignified grace for his frame type, though Megatron couldn’t suss out exactly what kind of alt mode he had. He tilted his significant brow ridge and fixed Megatron with a charming smile.

“You looked lonely,” the orange bot said, flagging down the bartender for some fizzy midgrade. His smile towards Megatron turned soft as he reached for his cube. “My designation is Rung and I find you very attractive.”

Megatron was taken aback. Against all odds, he laughed. Rung peered at him through thick lenses with a bashful smile as if he knew it had been a ridiculous pick up line. Above all though, it worked. Megatron cracked a smile at his suitor and gave him a once-over. There were curves on Rung that Megatron could appreciate, and he looked specialized in some way. The way his chest armor displayed his bright spark was tantalizing, seductive even.

“I suppose I can say the same. You’re smaller than I usually play with, but if need be I can make use of my mass displacement.” Megatron couldn’t help but tilt his frame at an angle, giving Rung a good look at his buttons and abdominal panel. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of his flirting, but some part of him felt silly for being so excited by Rung’s obvious appreciation of his frame.

“I’m flattered,” Rung said, taking a dainty sip from his bubbling cube. “I’ve seen you here with Ratchet before. Were you supposed to meet?”

“Am I that obvious?” Megatron said, unable to stare too long into Rung’s honest optics. It did something to his internals he didn’t want to address. “We had a scene scheduled, but he had responsibilities to attend to.”

“I apologize for being so forward then, if you weren’t in the right frame of mind,” Rung said, though he made no motion to leave or turn away. “Would you care for company?”

Megatron thought of the tense energy he had carried all orn, leaving him on edge and burning for a fight. He had ached for the pain Ratchet could give him and beneath that he ached for connection. 

“Yes,” Megatron said with a nod. He saw no point in dragging out small talk, and instead got right to the point before Rung could think he might not want to play. “My only partner and I are not exclusive.”

It was then Megatron sent a short frequency ping to Rung, his survey results queued up for download. To his surprise, Rung rejected it.

“I’m a bit old fashioned,” Rung said, his sharp optics following Megatron’s every motion. “I like to get to know my partners organically. Would you like to hear my experience?”

Megatron was speechless, but fixated, and so he nodded. 

“I take on both dominant and submissive roles, though what I truly enjoy is bringing my partners fulfilment. What my partner wants plays a large factor in my decisions.” Rung rattled his engine and pinned Megatron with another demure smile. “I enjoy partners larger than myself, and my equipment is designed with that in mind. You won’t injure me.”

Megatron schooled his expression into one of neutrality, trying not to let show just how intrigued that made him in Rung. “I also switch, though I am often sexually dominant. When I submit, it is to be hurt. I suppose that would make me a masochist.”

“I see,” Rung hummed, a glint on his lenses as he leaned an elbow on the bar counter. His field was eking out, polite and non-invasive as it rippled with  _ curiosity- intrigue- mischief. _ “I have no interest in causing you any physical pain, and that is a hard limit for me. The only impact tools I am willing to use are soft floggers and riding crops, preferably of organic material.”

“Noted,” Megatron rasped, feeling the armor around his pelvis heat. He considered Rung’s frame once more, noting how modestly polished he was and how he sat with poise and open body language. Megatron was just itching to ask- “What do you think about when you look at me?”

Rung was quiet as he thought, a servo coming to his chin. His field curled with warmth and his lenses reflected the light once more as he said, “I imagine you bound and kneeling, for my use as I see fit.”

Megatron’s spark spun faster at that. Rung was still sitting there, looking charming and unassuming as he laid out a fantasy that had Megatron’s core temperature rising. Pink seeped under his faceplate upon realizing he wasn’t unwelcoming of the idea.

“I… have no objections.” Megatron absolutely did  _ not _ squirm.

“You mentioned usually being sexually dominant,” Rung said, circling back to their discussion. “Do you have any interest in being sexually submissive? To me?”

“I am curious, yes,” Megatron admitted, feeling the draw of someone confident and sure in Rung. There was a part of him that yearned to have Rung standing over him, putting him to task. “I’ve never submitted sexually to another in a scene.”

“I’m willing to satisfy curiosity, even if it doesn’t go far,” Rung assured. Megatron appreciated the doors Rung was opening for him to back out gracefully. However, he had little intention of doing so. Especially not when Rung fixed him with an expectant look and commanded, “Tell me your limits.”

It sent a shiver down Megatron’s spine. Pleasant, and overall exciting, with just a trace of the unknown. He studied Rung’s chest, where his luminescent spark glowed behind what Megatron considered to be an absolutely indecent display. It made him want to confess his darkest fantasies at the drop of a pin.

Megatron allowed himself to shift under Rung’s gaze as he was expected to answer. For the first time in a long time he felt nervous about setting a limit. “I have… trauma,” he began, “Associated with my valve. I prefer it be left alone.”

Rung nodded along, showing no signs of judgement. In fact, he seemed to be taking notes on an internal program. Megatron recognized the unfocused look of someone working on their HUD, though Rung still seemed to be alert, because he spoke, “Does this limit extend to all areas of your valve? Such as your anterior node or your perineal bridge?”

“I’m not sure,” Megatron admitted, most of his efforts going towards keeping himself calm. This was normally something that would be communicated through the survey, and then brainstormed on their most compatible results. Unknown to most mecha, Megatron was just a tad squeamish when talking about his own limits. “I’ve not allowed anyone access to my valve as a hard limit, but…”

“But?” Rung prodded, his brow ridge rising as he spoke. His field reached out without judgement, coaxing Megatron into opening up. 

“I think touching around my valve would be… agreeable. However, I must put a hard limit on penetration.” Megatron gained more confidence as Rung nodded along with him, having no objections to Megatron’s boundaries. “I will need… patience, but I desire to submit to you.”

“It’s an honor to be worthy enough for your submission.” Rung said it with a genuine seriousness that made Megatron flush with energon. He steadfastly did not project his embarrassed giddiness into his field. “I mean that. It is something I take very seriously. Do you have any other hard limits I should be made aware of?”

“It is not a hard limit, rather a warning,” Megatron rumbled, rattling his vocalizer. “It would be best if you refrained from crossing behind me too often while I am bound. It makes me… agitated.”

Rung surprised him by smiling in response. “Is that something you’d like to work on in a scene, perhaps?”

It caught Megatron off guard. “What do you mean, work on?”

Rung pinged Megatron several articles of interest, surrounding kink. “I am especially interested in the psychological aspect of being a part of this community. Often as a dominant I seek to bring structure and healing to my submissive with my knowledge as a psychologist. This can be off putting for some, so I need you to tell me now if that is something you’re not interested in.”

Megatron put the articles into the background functions of his processor to be parsed and filtered without him having to focus. It gave him pause to hear Rung employed his expertise for pleasure, a tad nervous. “You’re not going to psychoanalyze me, are you? I’ve had enough of that in my lifetime.”

“No,” Rung affirmed, “Rather I want to understand your desires and kinks with you, and work with you to make them emotionally profitable for you. My role as a dominant can help clear choice paralysis by giving you a clear defined path. At the beginning of any scene we would discuss what you want out of a scene, and how it can benefit you.”

“And how does it benefit  _ you?” _ Megatron challenged, narrowing his gaze. He needed to know what Rung wanted out of their exchanges before he agreed to anything. Besides that, Megatron wasn’t interested in being a guinea pig.

“The control is very desirable to me, as well as using that control to help others,” Rung said with an open field. “I also have a penchant for large mecha at my beck and call. I am not harsh in my judgements, but I have expectations of my submissive. One of those being we will take care of each other. That includes emotionally.”

Megatron thought that was perfectly fair. He preferred the way Rung laid his intentions out for him to view. It was refreshing in its own way. He nodded to Rung with an affirming grunt.

“How do you act when you enter subspace?” Rung asked, folding his servos neatly over his crossed legs. 

“Instinctual,” Megatron rasped, squirming at the thought of becoming a primal beast around Rung. Ratchet always brought something vicious out in him. “I recommend restraining me. I sometimes cannot control my strength.”

“Understood. I have a feeling we will be taking this rather slow. Which is by no means a bad thing.” Rung sounded so genuinely kind when he said it Megatron nearly curdled away from him. “Now, I don’t usually experience dom drop, but when I do I experience guilt for the actions that I’ve done. During aftercare I would appreciate it if you would assure me I haven't done anything you don’t want- so long as it’s true. I always welcome criticism and feedback of my methods, should I have done anything you’re unhappy with.”

It was a lot of information to process at once. Megatron nodded, knowing that wouldn’t be difficult for him. “I sometimes go nonverbal after overload,” he offered up, knowing Rung was keeping track of their negotiations. “During aftercare I enjoy being wiped down by my dominant and…”

Megatron paused, nervous about expressing his desires. He was rarely in a position to tell someone what he needed after he had been put into subspace. Ratchet just always  _ knew. _

“I like to be polished,” he admitted, clasping his servos together in his lap. “It helps me become aware of my frame again. Then, afterwards, I like to be wrapped in a tarp and held. Sometimes I recharge after scenes, sometimes I am aware but nonverbal.”

“Thank you, this gives me a very good idea of how I should prepare for you,” Rung said with excitement rolling into his field. It was infectious. “I find conversation post-scene to be helpful for me, but I understand if that is beyond your capabilities.”

“When I am awake after a scene I enjoy listening.” Megatron couldn’t help but wonder what Rung might say to him. “During aftercare with Ratchet, he will often put audiopads on in the background and talk about them to me.”

“That is good to know. Would it be too forward of me to invite you back to my hab this evening?” Rung sipped the last of his drink and pushed the cube away, leaving a credit chip beside it. “Not for a scene, but I wouldn’t mind intimacy.”

“You like to go on test drives before you buy the alt?” Megatron purred, revving his engine for Rung. He delighted in the shiver it elicited from the orange bot. “I think that can be arranged.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and Rung have a scene that ends with a safeword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy ~trauma and ~sexual frustration

Rung was a generous dominant, Megatron found out. 

Their first night together they had lingered in Rung’s apartment until the heady light of Hadeen peered through the windows. They had sat up in Rung’s modest kitchenette with accelerant laced fuel, getting to know one another into the early morning. Long after they had intended to, they had rolled in the sheets until they exhausted themselves.

After that, Megatron’s training began in earnest. 

Their first scene together Rung had held out his palms to show Megatron a dainty length of red silken cloth, connected by a round, ornately carved obsidian clasp. Megatron had dutifully lowered himself to his knees and bowed his neck for Rung.

“You’ll call me Sir,” Rung insisted as he clasped the delicate collar around Megatron’s throat cables. The obsidian clasp hung heavy over the hollow of his throat. It felt too showy for him, no matter how simple it was. Ratchet’s collar for him was nothing but a bent strip of metal. “I expect not to have to repeat myself. Your attention should rest solely on me. Should you disobey then I will be highly disappointed.”

“Yes, Sir,” Megatron had rasped on rote. He handed Rung the reigns of his frame by holding out his wrists to be bound.

Rung had many more rules than Megatron was used to following. Most of their scenes focused on teaching Megatron Rung’s expectations of him. He was taught the positions that Rung expected him to take on when he was ordered, though many of them were the same as what Ratchet demanded of him. Rung expected him to be physically well maintained, as well as well fueled and fluids topped off before a scene. He was expected to open his panels as soon as his collar was put on him- and he was never to put his collar on by himself.

“That’s my job,” Rung informed him, stroking the stone that weighed against Megatron’s cables. “Because this collar belongs to me. I have entrusted it to you to take care of. You will hold it in your subspace, but you will not put it on because it is not yours.”

“Understood, Sir.” Megatron didn’t admit that the act of his collar being put on had his spark pulsing with desire. During his training Rung hadn’t given his bared array attention at all and it left Megatron aching for the skill he knew Rung had.

For all the rules he imposed, Rung was generous with praise and encouragement- Megatron had become accustomed to receiving small treats in the form of candied fuel. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was a secret motivation to do well. Megatron rarely allowed himself sweets, and so the gifts from his dominant satisfied more than just his desire to please.

On their fifth scene together, before Rung asked for the collar, he said, “I’m going to touch you tonight. I will deny you overload several times before I give you one, but you will get it. Do you object?”

Megatron shook his head. He forced himself not to call Rung ‘sir’ yet, “No penetration,” he rumbled, waiting for Rung to request the collar of him. He itched to reach into his subspace.

“Understood,” Rung assured him. Then he held out one palm while looking expectantly to Megatron, who dutifully produced the collar and knelt to offer it to his dominant. Rung took the collar and clasped it around Megatron’s neck with practiced ease. “Position one.”

Megatron straightened his posture and held his servos together out in front of himself. He spread his knees to distribute his weight with less stress and trained his optics on his dominant. 

Rung was looking at him with his servo resting against the side of his helm, index digit at his temple, like he were deep in thought. His admiration echoed in his electromagnetic field. He spoke with cool confidence, “I’ve decided to make use of your array. Are you going to let me touch your anterior node tonight?”

Megatron knew that Rung would heed his boundaries on this. They pushed at many of his limits together, but he knew it was all under his control. It only happened because he let it. With a shudder, Megatron shrugged off the phantoms clawing at his hips and nodded. He bit out, husky and hot, “May I request you make use of my spike first, Sir?”

“I suppose I can indulge you.” Rung produced a pair of magnacuffs from his subspace and clipped them around Megatron’s forearms. “Behind your back,” Rung instructed, allowing Megatron a moment to do as he was told before he used a small remote to activate the magnetic lock on the cuffs. They were fancier than what Ratchet used, but they had the same function. Ultimately, they were for show- if Megatron wanted them off all he had to do was send a short burst code to the cuffs that deactivated the locking mechanism.

Megatron took a deep vent in as he anticipated Rung’s use of him, the excitement of it reflected in the charge that danced through his fuel lines. He wondered if he would get a treat if he allowed Rung close to areas that were usually off limits. He ignored the anxiety building in his gut around the thought of Rung’s talented servos fondling his anterior node. It should have excited him, he thought bitterly.

Anxiety bled into pleasure as Megatron focused back on Rung, moaning out as his spike housing was abruptly stimulated. He glanced down at the pede rubbing the base of his spike sheath to coax it into pressurizing. Megatron’s cord pressed from its sheath, its imposing curve rubbing against the panel above Rung’s ankle joint. He tilted his hips forward, the friction a siren call to his needy spike.

“Ah-ah, be still.” Rung’s voice cut through Megatron’s muddled thoughts like a lighthouse. Rung put his stabilizer back to the floor before he came closer to Megatron kneeling frame. Even kneeling, Rung was still shorter than him. “You’ll take what I give, but no more. You’re not to overload until I give you permission, as well. Understood?”

“Understood, Sir,” Megatron said, tongue thick in his mouth as his focus narrowed down to his aching spike. The teasing touch of Rung’s pede had been helped by Megatron’s heady anticipation of stimulation; the red biolights along the base of his spike pulsed with desperate light for Rung to take notice.

Rung stepped even closer, pressing his whole frame against Megatron as he reached between them. Both servos wrapped around Megatron’s cord, stroking the braided platelets on the underside. Megatron was large enough that His spike came up just above Rung’s navel cover, leaving smears of pre-fluid on the orange bot’s abdomen.

“Your spike is beautiful. An absolute work of art.” Rung pet the aching tip of Megatron’s spike, his thin fingers digging at the slit that housed his jack. The component sent jolts of electricity arcing up to zap at Rung, who shrugged it off easily. Megatron nearly melted. “Tell me when you’re close to overload.”

“Yes, Sir,” Megatron gasped out, biting back another moan as Rung used his whole body to rub up against his spike. Rung’s frame conducted more charge than he would have thought, leaving him hot and desperate where he knelt on the floor. 

Rung kept one hand on Megatron’s spike, using the other to hold his cheek. He stared into Megatron’s needy gaze, purring his delight. Rung pet Megatron’s faceplate with deliberate touch, not allowing the larger mech to lean into him before he pulled away.

“You look so lovely for me,” Rung hummed. He leaned in to kiss the ridge of Megatron’s olfactory like a lover would, sending streams of charge surging through Megatron’s chest. The hand on his spike kept moving, teasing, rubbing against Rung’s supple frame. Megatron shuddered into his touch. “I barely have to guide you. You make yourself art for me.”

Megatron moaned, helpless to Rung’s control. He flexed against the magnacuffs and flared his plating, gusts of hot air escaping him. His spike twitched in Rung’s servo without shame as fluid leaked from the tip. 

Rung stepped away from him, much to Megatron’s displeasure. He steeled himself against the lack of sensation that took over his array, his spike burning for touch. He absolutely ached for relief even as Rung produced two items from his subspace. In one servo he held out a small bullet vibrator, with its matching remote, and in the other he dangled a riding crop. Megatron’s mouth went dry upon seeing both. He _wanted._

“I’ll decide when you get the toy,” Rung said to him, tucking the vibrator away. Megatron knew it was too good to be true this early on. Rung had a habit of making him work for his rewards. “I’ll be using the crop to stimulate you and remind you of your posture.”

 _Posture,_ Rung said. As it that were as important as an overload. Specifically Megatron’s overload. He growled, low in his throat to let Rung know of his annoyance.

He didn’t expect the crop to strike him across the cheek.

“Behave,” Rung admonished, tapping the crop against Megatron’s chest with a soft _thwap!_ “Otherwise no overload for you. I’ll make use of that spike to get myself off and there won’t be any left for you. Understood?”

Megatron grit his jaw, but lowered his helm in submission. Humiliation stained his field like fire. It burned as he said, “Understood, Sir.”

“That’s a good mech,” Rung said, his praise genuine. He reached out to tilt Megatron’s helm to look at him before he leaned in and pecked Megatron on the lips. It sent electricity tingling through his body. Of all Rung’s small encouragements and praise, the physical affection he handed out was the most powerful. It made him forget about the sting of reprimand.

The crop dragged along the outside of Megatron’s thigh, leaving sensors awakening in its dredge. A gasp filtered through his vents as Rung used the riding crop to caress beneath the head of his spike. 

“I want you to think of every scene we have as a performance, and you have the starring role,” Rung said, using the crop to distract Megatron. At least, that’s what it felt like. Megatron’s thoughts were disrupted by the crop swinging around to strike his aft. It barely stung, not even strong enough to be considered pain, but it made Megatron jerk so his spinal strut was ramrod straight. Rung said, with raised brow ridges, “Posture. What’s the rule?”

How could Megatron think about his posture at a time like this?

“Did you hear me?” The crop swept around his side, sliding across his body as Rung swept from side to side. Megatron did notice Rung refrained from crossing behind him, which he appreciated. Rung allowed him to see where he was at any given point. It was comforting, even if the riding crop came up to strike his face again. “Am I not worthy of your attention, Megatron?”

Hearing his name in Rung’s saccharine lips broke him. His shoulders sagged and he realized he was _failing,_ leading a torrent of poisonous thoughts down into the underbelly of Megatron’s mind. His field bled shame.

“Please forgive me, Sir,” Megatron uttered, barely a whisper. His pauldrons shook under their own weight, his knees feeling numb as he hung his helm. Deep in his spark, Megatron knew this feeling wouldn’t last, knew that Rung would forgive him, but a seed of doubt nestled in his tank regardless.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Rung commanded, using a hand to tilt Megatron’s chin to force eye contact. Megatron found himself unable to look away, captivated by Rung’s kind optics, shining as bright as the spark framed by his chest plating.

Megatron pushed away the anxious feeling rising in his chest. Instead, he fell back on his earlier thoughts. “It is difficult to focus on my posture when I am being pleasured.”

Megatron swore Rung hid a smile from him. It prodded at something vicious in the back of his mind. He hated being laughed at. Before he could get himself in trouble, Rung spoke for them both, “You'll just have to learn to multitask, won’t you? Do you think yourself incapable?”

Petulance rose in Megatron stronger than his earlier feelings of anger. Rung was testing him, seeing how far he would go for an overload. He bared his fangs at his dominant with a growl, “No. Sir. I am capable.”

Rung frowned upon Megatron’s admittance. He shifted on his pedes, thumbing the shaft of the riding crop as he observed the larger mech’s body language. He let the riding crop hang limp, a symbolic disarming.

“You’re agitated,” Rung stated, already tucking the crop away in his subspace. In its place appeared the vibrator. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to dole out a punishment. Perhaps you play those games with your other Sir, but you and I aren’t going to do that. You’re here to service me, isn’t that right?”

Rung didn’t sound disappointed or upset with him, and that was all it took for Megatron’s aggression to lose steam. He squirmed under Rung’s gaze, refusing to meet it. He didn’t appreciate being chastised like some newly minted sparkling. Megatron vented in deep, and nodded to his dominant once he had counted to ten.

“Yes, Sir. That’s correct. I am here in your service. Whatever you will have of me.” Megatron’s voice was hoarse, breathless as he begged for forgiveness in his own words. He wouldn’t acknowledge the insecure vulnerability it left in his chest.

“That’s a good mech,” Rung cooed, stroking Megatron’s cheek before he leaned up to give him a tender kiss. When he pulled back Megatron looked downright dazed. “No need to show those pretty weapons, I know how dangerous you are. All I want is an overload from you. What I said earlier is still in effect- you will tell me when you approach overload.”

Megatron’s engine nearly combusted as the forgotten vibrator touched the tip of his neglected spike. His hips jerked, but against all odds managed to keep his back straight. The way Rung acknowledged his primal display touched him in a way most couldn’t- rarely did anyone so easily recognize his defense mechanisms for what they were. Rung _knew_ how dangerous he was, and trusted him anyway. It stirred something in him that he couldn’t name, a terrifying openness that he shared with only Rung in their scenes. Megatron realized just how tense he was holding himself, forcing him to unclamp his armor. He was allowed to be open, Megatron reminded himself, relaxing under the weight of his submission. He could feel so much, all he had to do was let it happen, and Rung would take care of the rest.

Pressure built up in Megatron’s hydraulics as he kept himself upright. He arched his back, finding it easier than forcing himself to be still, and it had the added bonus of catching Rung’s optics. Rung focused on the curve of Megatron’s waist with a throaty purr, the vibrator moving along the underside of Megatron’s spike. It circled the tip, pulling a ragged, heavy moan from the larger mech. Behind the fog of pleasure and submission, Megatron became mildly concerned his core would overheat.

“Close-“ Megatron bit out, his entire frame rattling with the effort it took him not to fall into the wash of overload. Just before he could tumble, the vibrator left him. 

At first he was numb and throbbing, and then it _hurt._

Had he less control, Megatron would have thrashed about or yowled from the ache his spike endured. His systems were confused, having lost the main source of charge for his overload. The energy rerouted throughout his array, leaving his charge painfully high. 

Megatron truly felt himself to be the needy creature Rung wanted him to be in that moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” Rung praised, his words soothing Megatron’s burning field. Rung’s servo felt cool to the touch against his cheek, pulling Megatron out of his own mind like an anchor. “You suffer so exquisitely.”

The vibrator turned on again and Megatron braced himself.

Megatron shuddered and resisted the urge to buck his hips as Rung pressed the vibrator to his hypersensitive spike. The toy was on a different setting this time- instead of vibrating consistently it had crushing pauses between long lengths of vibrations. As the vibrator was pressed against the base of his cord and his sheath, Megatron found the pauses to be annoying more than frustrating. As time went on and his charge rose, his internal temperature spiking once more, the build up of the vibration pattern had him gasping out each time he was robbed of his pleasure. Every time it stopped it halted his charge from building, causing him to drift pathetically far from an overload. 

“Don’t fight it,” Rung hushed, stroking Megatron’s panting cheeks and dragging the vibrator up his cord. “All you need to do is tell me when you’re close. I’ll take care of you.”

The infernal vibrator butted right up against a node under the head of Megatron’s spike, causing him to cry out as his charge shot up, and then stagnated. It had Megatron fighting to keep himself upright.

“Close- close-“ Megatron wheezed, gritting his jaw in preparation for the ruination of his orgasm. It was easier when he knew it would happen and knew he would be left dangling on the edge. When Rung pulled the vibrator back he gasped out, “Mercy, please, have mercy.”

The vibrator ceased buzzing and Megatron felt a twist of disappointment. It lasted only until Rung’s warm touch shifted over his hips, and then his spike. Megatron let out a sigh of relief; Rung’s mercy was much better than the vibrator’s. 

“I’m going to touch your node now,” Rung said, giving Megatron several moments to process his glyphs before he moved his touch lower, below his spike housing.

Megatron tensed, forgotten anxieties rearing ugly heads as his node was caressed. It was too easy to remember unwanted servos on his frame, the painful fear that stuck in his gears, interrupted by Rung’s tender touch rubbing soft circles around his anterior node. Megatron nearly drowned in the sensation.

“Do you want to overload?” Rung asked, as though he hadn’t been torturing Megatron with relief just out of reach. Megatron was helpless to do anything but nod, back arching as he came undone by Rung’s hand. 

“Please,” Megatron begged, his voice laced with static. 

“You may overload,” Rung hummed, never letting up on the firm pressure he had on Megatron’s sensor. His servo moved faster, pushing Megatron’s charge higher. There was so much spinning around in his frame that it arced across his armor like fireworks.

Megatron felt the floor slip out from under him just before he reached his peak, hallowed laughter taunting him even in his memories. Before he could think about why, he blurted, “Red! Red, red-“

The ache of a lost overload was back, but it was a welcome feeling. Megatron sobbed as the magnacuffs released automatically upon his safeword, leaving him to catch himself as he fell forward to the floor. His field writhed as he shrank away from Rung, the terror of disappointment holding tight to his spark. He couldn’t meet Rung’s optics.

“I’m not upset with you,” Rung assured as he knelt beside Megatron. He raised his servos, but didn’t touch. “May I hold you?”

The reassurance was needed. Megatron realized with belated annoyance he had begun to hyperventilate, the anxiety he’d felt earlier pouring over him tenfold. Part of him knew that it was only his own fault for hiding it from Rung. He slipped into the fog of his own insecurities, forgetting his dominant was beside him. Only when Rung grasped his face and forced their optics to meet did he break out of his thought loop. 

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” Rung said, stroking Megatron’s wet cheek. Megatron held his tongue to keep from lashing out. He felt weak for everything Rung praised him for. “You’ve done nothing wrong, understand? I apologize for not seeing something was wrong earlier. I should have known when you became aggressive with me.”

The humiliations stacked. Megatron’s shoulders shook with the utter failures he had committed. He turned away from Rung as he felt lubricant leaking from his optics- just another weakness to him. He yearned to stop his frame from reacting the way it did, not wanting Rung to see him so vulnerable and undone. 

Only for Rung to force him to look back. 

“Megatron,” Rung said, deliberate and slow, “I am not disappointed. On the contrary, you did very well. You know as well as I that there are drawbacks to pushing limits. Just because our scene is ending with a safeword it doesn’t mean you failed.”

At a loss, Megatron could only nod. He didn’t trust himself to speak, instead allowing himself to hide in the cradle of Rung’s arms. Rung’s frame held no judgement of him, only comfort. Megatron tried to blink away the tears that streaked down his cheeks like red flags announcing his weakness. He had never cried because of a scene before. It was strange, and unwelcome.

“I want to feel good,” Megatron begged, his grip weak at Rung’s waist. He didn’t even know what he wanted, but he _wanted._

“You did so well,” Rung crooned, pressing kisses to the top of Megatron’s helmet. “What would make you feel good?”

An overload was the first thing that came to mind, but Megatron quickly struck down that option with vehement thought. He nestled his face against Rung’s bright spark and shook his head. He didn’t know how to make himself feel good in that moment.

Sensing his difficulties, Rung dug around in his subspace until he found several wrapped treats. They were often reserved as rewards, when Megatron completed a taxing demand. Megatron felt he didn’t deserve them now. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Rung said, clicking his tongue as he made quick work of the wrapped treat. He held it to Megatron’s intake, waiting with the patience of a saint. “I am the one who decides if you deserve a reward, and I have deemed you worthy. Now, will you spurn my gift?”

Megatron shook his head and opened his mouth, taking the treat from Rung’s thin fingers. The casing was tart, and once the outside cracked under his fangs a sweet glaze trickled over his tongue. He couldn’t help but moan quietly, the treat already pulling him out of his tumultuous headspace.

After two more candies, Megatron was able to put space between their frames with confidence, shaky, but deep, vents soothing the rattling in his chest. 

“I… apologize,” Megatron whispered as he untangled his legs from beneath his frame. His knees were sore and aching from spending so long in one position.

“You’re already forgiven,” Rung assured him. “Is there anything in particular that required your safeword? So I can avoid it in the future.”

“No,” Megatron said, unsure what to tell his dominant. “I wanted it. I… I wanted you to bring me to overload with my valve, but…”

“You needn’t justify yourself if you’re simply not ready.”

“I _want_ to be ready,” Megatron snarled, immediately regretting his harsh tone. Rung didn’t flinch. His voice came out softer as he looked down into his lap, “I want to give my valve to you.”

As embarrassed as he had felt when he thought it, Megatron found the phrase empowering. Until Rung he had never wanted to open himself like this, to be pleasured and made to serve with his frame. He had known service to cruel and harsh mecha, and Rung was not them. It made him desire to be under Rung’s control, a feeling he was still reconciling with.

“I’m honored. I understand it can be frustrating for your desires to conflict with your trauma.” Rung pulled a cleaning chamois from his subspace, already reaching with it for Megatron’s faceplate. As he dabbed away the tear tracks he said, “We will make it there in time. There’s no shame in moving slowly. We _will_ discuss it later, I promise. For now I’m going to wipe you down and we will begin aftercare. You need caring for.”

Though he was still unused to being the one needing care, Megatron submitted.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and Rung shift their dynamic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for sub drop in this chapter.

After Megatron safeworded, Rung insisted on a debrief of their scene after they had rested. Part of Megatron wanted to bury the feelings he’d expulsed all over their scene. Rung wouldn’t let him.

Their debrief ended up happening the morning after. Megatron had awoke and trudged out of his berth to find Rung sitting at his utilitarian table with two steaming cubes of fuel. Megatron felt like he was marching to his doom.

As dramatic as it felt in his head, Rung never failed to cool his fiery expectations. Rung pushed a cube of fuel towards him and then took a sip from his own, like he wasn’t about to lay Megatron bare across the table- emotionally speaking.

“Good morning,” Rung greeted, even leaning forward to peck Megatron on the cheek. He was so chaste it threw Megatron for a loop, leaving him looking hypnotized by his affection. “I wanted to make sure you had something to fuel on while we talk. And, before you ask, yes, I think we should talk about it first thing. I can already tell if we don’t, it will hang on you like chains.”

His only refute having been addressed, Megatron motioned for Rung to continue.

“Oh! I apologize, you didn’t even get to say good morning,” Rung suddenly said, looking flustered as he covered his mouth. “Ah, that was so rude of me. I’m so sorry, Megatron. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Just fine,” Megatron said, his brow ridge raised. He raised the fuel to his intake, and then motioned for Rung to explain himself once more. He smiled behind his cube as Rung squirmed under his faux pas. It helped settle the anxiety in his tank to see that Rung, too, was as vulnerable as he.

“Yes, well, as I was saying.” Rung cleared his vocalizer and sat up prim and proper, servos folded in front of him. “Last cycle’s scene really got to you. We should talk about it, so we can know where to improve for the future. What was good for you, and what needs work.”

“Alright,” Megatron said with an affirmative grunt. “I want to reassure you that my safewording wasn’t about anything you did. I was… nervous, last night. And that isn’t easy for me to admit. The anticipation of having my valve touched weighed on me throughout.”

“Thank you for admitting it.” Rung placed his hand in the middle of the table, reaching out to Megatron with a genuine smile. “Your honesty is appreciated, and required for this to be beneficial. I did have some concerns that I pushed you too hard last night, and so I’m glad to hear I did right by you.”

Megatron sipped his fuel again in lieu of a response. He shoulders tensed with the reminder of his failures the night before. No- he corrected himself- not failures. Hiccups. He shrugged off the feeling and focused himself back on Rung.

“I do want it,” he whispered, staring down into his cube. Both servos gripped the edges of the container like it would vanish before him, the liquid sloshing. “Last night I was- was so-“ he paused to vent in deep. “Frustrated. Not because of you, but because of my inability to submit.”

“You did not fail to submit,” Rung assured. His palm was still laying down on the table, an olive branch for Megatron to reach out to. “You pushed yourself as far as you could stretch last night, and while I am proud of you for the lengths you’ve gone it’s important that you are in the right headspace to work up from that push. We made progress last night, even if it feels like you didn’t.”

“It didn’t,” Megatron confessed, hiding his face behind his cube. “I continue to be frustrated that I can’t let go of control. That’s what this is supposed to be about.”

“On the contrary,” Rung hummed, cracking a smile. “This is about regaining your control. You are the one who holds the reins over me, Megatron. You graciously allow me your submission, and it is in your right to retract it as you see fit. You must understand that this isn’t a flawless system. There is no such thing as a perfect scene, only best case scenarios.”

That did put Megatron’s feelings into perspective. He squirmed behind his fuel as he considered his feelings on their earlier scene. “I struggle when you give me choices,” Megatron said, finally reaching out to place is servo over Rung’s. He curled his whole hand around Rung’s smaller one, engulfing it. “Because I want it. I want what you offer me, so much my frame aches for it, but…”

Megatron halted, watching the way Rung looked so invested in his words. He shuddered out a breath. “I fear that I will continue to fight you, or safeword, as long as it is in my control.”

“Last night’s scene did make me aware that you seem to perceive any impact play as a threat. Is this true?” Megatron could tell that Rung was taking notes on his HUD again. It was comforting, actually, to know Rung was documenting their relationship so closely. Rung had even offered to let Megatron see his notes, so nothing was kept from him; of course, Rung’s notes were not as exciting as he had thought they might be. All about his limits and his turn ons, what Rung wanted to suggest and what he had to work around. It was nicer to get it straight from Rung’s mouth. 

“I don’t know,” Megatron answered honestly. He felt ashamed to know that he had almost unleashed something dangerous upon Rung. Though he was certain that he wouldn’t have outright attacked his dominant he was concerned any amount of lashing out would do damage. Rung was so much smaller than him, and had only non-combatant armor. “I do so much impact play with Ratchet that it colors my submission, I suppose. I… anticipate pain, when I am at another’s mercy, and when I am in pain I become aggressive.”

“I see. When I struck you with the crop, was it painful?” Rung looked concerned, and Megatron was quick to shut it down.

“No,” he said quickly, then added, “It wasn’t painful, and that itself was surprising. I was unsure what to do, and that… aggravated me. I was upset because I was not living up to your expectation.”

“Understood.” Rung took a final drink from his cube before he got up and took it to Megatron’s washing station. When he sat back down he smiled and took Megatron’s servo in both his hands. “I’d like to suggest something to you, and it might need to be something you think out thoroughly before agreeing.”

“Alright,” Megatron hedged, steeling himself for what may come. A part of him worried Rung would want to end their relationship.

“How would you feel about a change in title?”

That was a relief and a concern all in one. Megatron nodded along, brow coming together in thought. “Like what?”

“You talked about how the choices I give you cause a blockage in your ability to fully submit. How would you feel about giving me control of your choices?” Rung spoke delicately, with precise diction and care. “I want to know your feelings on having a Master instead of a Sir.”

The word  _ master _ had a distinct history to it, for Megatron. He could see the way Rung watched him carefully, taking in his reactions. Megatron could see his concern, but chose to ignore it for now to consider his options. The title of master was a heavy one, one that he wouldn’t take lightly. Not even Ratchet had wanted to cross that line. Megatron’s history with so-called masters was not a pleasant one.

Megatron looked at Rung and imagined the way Rung would touch him, praise him, treat him, should he accept. 

“I’ll consider it,” he said, finally. “As you know, I have known a master before.”

“May I ask you something indecent?” 

Megatron shrugged. “I don’t see why not, after all we’ve done.”

“If it’s alright, I would like to hear about your assault.” Rung didn’t look  _ intrigued _ per se but Megatron could see the engagement in the shine of his optical lenses. A shiver crawled up Megatron’s spine at the thought.

Megatron considered if he was ready to talk out loud about what had happened to him. It had been several hundred million years, and still only a select few knew of his traumas. He vented in deep, optics shuttered as he considered his own feelings, and found himself yearning. 

“It was ongoing abuse,” Megatron admitted, staring down into his cube of fuel. His helm ratcheted up as if on autopilot. “When I worked in the mines there were a handful of occasions when I was alone or isolated, and senior miners took their due from me. When I became more outspoken and was sentenced to the Pits, it was ‘overlooked’ that my manager caused me several trips to the medbay with trauma to my valve. It was also commonplace for my manager to rent my time to VIP attendees of my fights. You can imagine how they treated me.”

“No,” Rung said quietly, his servos coming to clutch his own chest, framing his spark. “I can’t. I can’t imagine the awful things they did to you. You didn’t deserve what happened, and I hope you trust me regarding that.”

“I have reconciled with my past difficulties,” Megatron said, knowing that he still had not gotten over what had been done to him. His shoulders sagged, the weight of his trauma bearing down hard. “As I’ve told you, I do want to submit to you. I  _ want _ to be at your mercy, and to experience what you can give me. I trust you, I just need… time.”

However much more time after six hundred million years, he didn’t know. 

“I treasure your trust,” Rung said as he stood and came around the table. However presumptuous it seemed, he fit himself into Megatron’s lap like he belonged there and forced the larger mech to focus on his new acquisition. Rung took Megatron’s face in both hands and encompassed him with a gleaming smile. “We may go as slow as you need. There are so many options available to us in the meantime, you need not get caught up in the use or non use of your valve.”

“But I want to use my valve,” Megatron muttered, petulance seeping through his field even as he curled his arms around Rung. As his smaller companion snuggled against his chest he was struck with a pang of wondering. “What if I never become comfortable with it?”

“As I said, there are many different methods of pleasure available to us,” Rung assured, nuzzling under Megatron’s jaw. His field hinted at Megatron’s with mischievous energy. “Like, perhaps, your tailpipe?”

Megatron made a face. He’d taken it up the aft port several times in his functioning, and none had been pleasurable. It did not, however, have nearly as much baggage associated with it as his valve did. Exhaust piping could be delicate, and thin, even on warframes, and was expensive to replace and repair. This factor had made Megatron’s VIP customers and his manager much gentler there than with his valve. He sagged again, and admitted with some reluctance, “I’ve never consensually given my port to anyone.” He paused, then, “But… I think that it is something I want to experiment with.”

“You have a lot to consider,” Rung said, tilting Megatron’s helm down to kiss him on the lips. “You also have time. Let’s spend our remaining time together relaxing. There’s no rush.”

* * *

Rung was right. There wasn’t a rush.

Despite that, Megatron  _ wanted. _

He wanted so damn bad that he lamented over the choice Rung had given him for only a few cycles before he demanded they meet up. He had thought about it endlessly, without ceasing, his pistons firing like gunshots in his processor. Except, when he saw Rung at his door that evening, his mouth went dry and he lost all sense of propriety. 

Rung was polished to an unnatural shine, something he rarely did, with emphasis on his spark window. It was clear enough to be mistaken for crystal. He clasped his hands together as Megatron opened the door, smiling to him with beguiled intent. “Good evening,” he said, stepping inside Megatron’s hab. “You’re looking rather ragged. Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Megatron snapped, scowling as he hit the reader to cycle his door closed. Once it eclipsed he snatched Rung up to hold him in a ravenous kiss, leaving Rung no choice but to relax into him. Rung’s seductive spark did things to him he couldn’t comprehend. 

“Oh my,” Rung whispered as they parted, squeezing Megatron’s flexing arm. He looked dazed, but delighted. Rung traced a finger along Megatron’s heavy chest armor, looking transfixed on his spark. “You do know how to make a bot feel desirable, don’t you?”

“Your fault for coming trussed up like you’re gagging for it,” Megatron rumbled against Rung’s neck, his servos groping lower. There was a part of his brain module that reminded him he was not the dominant party in their agreement, that he should put him down and kneel to serve him. He growled when Rung laughed, choosing to kiss him harder.

“Strong words from my pretty submissive,” Rung purred, delicate, thin fingers dragging across Megatron’s pauldrons. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

Megatron hefted Rung onto his arm, letting him find a comfortable spot to sit. Once Rung had settled and found a point to balance, he took his smaller partner into his living room where he could set him on the sofa. Megatron waited until they had both settled on the couch before he answered. “I’m in a good mood today, actually. I have been excited for your arrival. I have thought long on what you’ve asked of me, been consumed by it even, and I have an answer.”

“And?” Rung asked, looking hopeful in a way that squeezed Megatron’s spark. He felt like a fool, but a lucky one.

“My answer is yes,” Megatron blurted, energon rushing in his audials and cheeks. He’d been hoping to be more eloquent, but his rapidly spinning spark had spurred him into action. Megatron reeled back as Rung’s optics widened, quick to add on, quieter, “I’ve thought about this for orns, since you suggested it. When I think about you being my master I think about how kindly you treat me, and how seriously you take my consent, as well as my trust. That itself instills my trust in you.”

“I must say, I…” Rung was at a loss for words, servo over his mouth as he focused on his lap. “I’m rather overwhelmed- in a good way. I’ve been preparing myself so much for you to tell me no that I hadn’t thought to prepare for you telling me yes.”

Megatron couldn’t help but laugh, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a shy smile. He reached out across the gap between them and placed a servo on Rung’s knee. “I’ve considered your words a great deal, and I’ve come to the conclusion I’m ready to let go of expectations so that I may welcome what you choose to give me.”

“I’m honored,” Rung said, his field pulsing with genuine joy, holding Megatron’s hand in both of his own. “I truly mean that. Your trust is a treasure that I will cherish.”

Megatron was about to grunt about how sentimental Rung was before he was cut off quite abruptly by Rung’s mouth on his. He melted into Rung’s sure touch, his servos coming to shield the smaller mech and pull him close as they kissed. There was a part of him that was glad he had spurred Rung into reaching out for him; sometimes their bodies made better promises than they could.

“Now that the difficult part is over…” Megatron panted against Rung’s audial, a hunger growing in his spark. “How would you like to move these negotiations to my berth?”

* * *

Megatron came away from their meeting sapped of charge and with homework. While Rung drew up contracts for them, Megatron had been instructed to become familiar with his valve. As embarrassing as the task was, Megatron knew that Rung was right to encourage him to explore. 

“Knowing your own array is an important part of interface. Domination and submission aside, you should learn about what makes you feel good,” Rung had said upon his leaving, squeezing Megatron’s servos. Then he’d peeked up at Megatron under his thick lenses and smiled wide enough to make Megatron’s spark melt. “And then, you’ll share what you’ve learned with me.”

It had left Megatron unsure and nervous to not have Rung with him to experience it. As much as he would never admit to fear, it was terrifying to start something new at his age and level of experience.

“How do I start?” Megatron had asked, hoping for guidance. Instead, Rung had handed him a pamphlet for newbuilds with “Your Interface Array and You” in bold glyphs across the front. It had kept Megatron from asking anything else.

As much as he adored Rung’s sense of humor, he didn’t appreciate being the butt of a joke.

Rung would probably have told him that it wasn’t one.

Megatron put a holovid on without the intention of watching it, already considering what he was going to do with himself. Rung had instructed him to get to know his valve above all, to learn about himself and try new things. Everything about it was new to him.

Stretching himself across his sofa, Megatron folded his panels away. He knew if he didn't do it then, then he wasn’t going to do it, and as stubborn as he was he really didn’t want to disappoint Rung. Or himself. 

Megatron laid an arm behind his head, the other rubbing down the front of his broad chest. He fondled the buttons on his waist to pull his charge up as the heel of his servo grinding into the light panel above them. He was adept at pleasing himself, that wasn’t a question in his mind. What really garnered his anxiety was the thought of touching his valve. 

Unfolding the arm behind his head, Megatron continued to stimulate the tactile sensors of his ventral plating with his other. He reached between his thighs with a shudder of anticipation. Touching his valve was… different than he expected. His broad fingers spread the fat lips of his valve, finding he was more aroused than he’d thought. His lubricant spread with his fingers as he explored the tender folds.

It wasn’t like when others touched him, he realized with a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. No sharpness of foreign servos on his body, no discomfort from the unknown intentions of others. The sensations were soft at first. The pleasure was a mere after effect of his exploration, leaving warming sensors in the wake of his touch. It was different, being able to feel both sides of sensation. Not only was he experiencing the stimulation, he could feel the malleable pleats of his valve heating under his servo and filling with energon. Megatron moaned into the room as he pushed down on his abdominal buttons.

It was different enough it didn’t make him panic. Megatron sighed out in breathless relief as he slid his digits over his node, smearing lubricant across his array to slick his path. His node pulsed a dim red glow. Megatron’s spike twitched, aching for attention, and he had to cover his mouth to keep his free hand from shifting to touch it. Rung hadn’t explicitly told him not to stimulate his spike, but a deep, submissive part of him said it would be cheating. 

Megatron wasn’t sure how any of this would bring him an overload. It wasn’t like when Rung touched him, all electricity and subjugation. It felt good, he daresay he could even make it a habit, but an overload? That was the real fantasy. 

In what felt like a defeat, Megatron pinged Rung and tagged it with a very lewd glyph to indicate it wasn’t high priority. Rung still replied with haste. 

_ [Are you alright?] _ Rung’s glyphs bled concern. Megatron must not have given him much confidence. 

_ [Doing my homework,] _ Megatron admitted just as he slid his fingers between his wet folds. His vents stuttered as he pushed into the sensation.  _ [I’m unsure how I’m going to be able to overload from this.] _

_ [Tell me what you’re doing, my dear.] _

Megatron’s intake felt dry and full all at once. His fingers moved faster between the swollen lips of his valve, the friction over his rim and node pushing his charge further than his gentle touches had earlier. There was a newness to this pleasure. Every slide of his digits had his valve pulsing and dribbling lubricant between his legs and onto his couch. 

_ [Rubbing my node, and the length of my valve,] _ Megatron murmured into his comm, a dreamlike quality overseeing his higher functions. He was drifting out of focus, like his valve was overtaking every sensation in his frame. It was good, as long as he didn’t think about it too hard. Charge surged through him all at once as he tickled the rim of his valve but didn’t dare penetrate it. He wasn’t ready for that, he didn’t think.

_ [Is it coming easier to you than when I touch you?] _ Rung sounded breathless across his comm, leaving Megatron to wonder what he might be doing on the other end. It spurred him to touch himself harder, circling his node with more aggressive intent. His charge was rising with a steady flow through his valve, conductive fluids drooling over his fingers. 

_ [Yes,] _ Megatron admitted, a lance of guilt piercing his field as he sent it. He didn’t want Rung to think he didn’t want him to touch him. He added, hopefully,  _ [But I want you touching me to be easier too.] _

_ [In time.] _ Megatron shivered at the firm boundary Rung set down for him. He knew he was supposed to be focusing on himself, but every part of him screamed for Rung’s direction. Rung’s comm cut through to him.  _ [Would it put you off to know I’m touching myself to the sounds you make?] _

_ [No,] _ Megatron moaned, a hunger growing in his loins. Rung’s admittance had the opposite effect, bringing his charge even higher. Knowing he was pleasing his master even so far away made the touch of his own servo that much more gratifying.  _ [Feels better.] _

_ [The noises you make bring me much delight. I can only imagine the taste of you.] _

That had Megatron’s cheeks heating. Imagining Rung’s mouth on him was a tantalizing prospect, something he hadn’t even considered. He would have to bring it up at a later point. For now, he would focus on bringing himself to overload like he was supposed to. Despite the casual energy between them he felt subspace tickling the back of his processor.

Megatron focused on his node, rubbing circles around it that became more desperate with time. Where he’d been hesitant at first now there was only desire. A part of him twinged, reminding him of all the trauma his valve had seen. Ghostly feelings of rigid spikes tearing him open reminded him of exactly why he had been so reluctant in the first place. It brought his servos to a halt, leaving him to struggle with his vents. 

_ [Focus, darling.] _ Rung’s voice tethered him to the present. Megatron was certain that Rung sensed his dwindling comfort. He pushed past the hard pit in his throat, rubbing his node faster in an attempt to push his charge up and over the threshold of orgasm. 

It took longer than it would have if he had used his spike. Megatron’s engine purred as he created the waves of his charge, tumbling over the edge with a whine of his fans. It was shallow and slow, coming over him like a gentle rain, unlike any other overload he’d had before. As Megatron came down he realized how cold he had become, valve slick and clammy against the air around him. His engine was idling, coming down from arousal. 

_ [I came,] _ Megatron rumbled into his comm, closing his panel and curling onto his side. There was something icy seeping through him, something unfamiliar and unkind. He shivered, and blurted into his comm,  _ [I think I’m dropping.] _

Silence met him for several moments, and the hard lump in Megatron’s tanks doubled in size. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if Rung left him now. 

_ [I’ll be over shortly. You did so well, my dear, I’m so very proud of you. Before I arrive I would like you to perform small acts of maintenance. Wipe down your valve and find your favorite tarp. Even if this wasn’t a scene, I am going to come and take care of you.] _ Rung’s status was set to “away” shortly after, presumably so he could hail a transport. Megatron struggled to move. 

Guilt and relief alike overtook him even as he produced a cloth from his subspace, using it to wipe down around his panel and thighs. Megatron didn’t have the strength to open it and wipe his valve, despite Rung’s direct orders. He pulled a tarp down from over the top of his sofa, swaddling himself in it. After several moments he threw it off and wobbled to his berth- Rung had said to get his favorite tarp, after all.

Megatron rolled himself up into the tarp, collapsing on his berth once he was well and truly trapped in it. He sent a code to his front door to unlock it so Rung could let himself in, and then a ping to his dominant so he would know he was welcome to do it.

Megatron was unsure how long he laid there. He drifted in and out of his own mind, waffling between guilt for making Rung abandon whatever he had been up to, and relief that he had finished his duties to his dominant. Even if they hadn’t been in character it had been a large sum of Megatron’s energy.

Eventually the chime of his front door opening alerted Megatron to Rung’s arrival. He trembled despite his tarp, feeling the cold of loneliness slowly leaving him. The edge of the berth dipped just slightly. A small servo rested on his pauldron, and that was all Megatron had the strength to ignore. He flipped himself onto his other side, arms emerging from his cocoon to wrap around Rung’s waist in a desperate bid for contact.

“You did so well for me,” Rung hushed, stroking Megatron’s helmet. Megatron steadfastly did  _ not _ cry. “You sounded like art. Did you like it?”

Megatron had to think about it, but he nodded his helm against Rung’s middle. “Different. But good.”

“I’m so proud of you for overcoming your difficulties. Even if this is just the first step you’ve done it beautifully. Maybe next time you’ll let me see you when you touch yourself. Would you like that?” Rung’s petting strayed down to Megstron’s neck, where he rested his servo. It wasn’t a collar, but it was nice all the same. 

Megatron thought of the comfort Rung gave him now, and how if he had him there next time then he wouldn’t have to wait, listless and half in subspace, for Rung to come take care of him. He nodded, vocalizer unable to find the words. 

“We can do that. You’ve done so well, would you like to rest?”

Megatron nodded again, and with Rung’s permission, shuttered his optics and initiated stasis. 


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung has a unique perspective.

Rung wished he had the right glyphs to describe exactly how Megatron made him feel. 

In the throes of passion, when there were no games between them and it was just them, their frames, and the room they were in, it felt like nothing could stop them. Rung was sent spiraling by Megatron’s wit and charm, like a wayward satellite gone off course. The first night in Megatron’s bed had been one he would hold dear for the rest of his functioning, would pull on those memories for relief long into the future. Both intellectually and… not.

Besides his beautiful submission Megatron was a beast in the berth. He gave with an intensity that usually had Rung’s gyros spinning enough to make him feel fuzzy and cross eyed, like he was a newforge again on his first date.

Well… that and Megatron’s glorious, broad shoulders. 

But Megatron made Rung feel like a brand new mech, and that, above all, was what made him so damn attractive. 

Even knowing that, Rung still had no accurate description for their relationship. It was passionate, and pleasurable, and at the same time it stimulated his processor more than most mecha could. Megatron made him want to be friends above just lovers, and that fueled just how intensely he controlled their scenes. It made him want to push Megatron to the edge, find every ecstatic weakness and exploit it. 

Rung pet his submissive’s helm, taking joy in the comfortable purr of Megatron’s engine. When they’d first begun this agreement he never would have thought the Decepticon leader’s submission to be so fragile. Megatron spoke and navigated like a veteran kinkster- and perhaps he was. Rung had found where he was most inexperienced, and it showed. 

Despite his inexperience, Megatron flourished under subjugation. Rung saw it in the way he looked to Rung for guidance during a scene, the way he battered himself when he committed what he perceived to be failure. That was something they would have to work on together. He could tell that Megatron would be a dutiful slave, that when taken in hand would give his service just as eagerly as he gave his dominance to others. Rung shivered to think of Megatron’s power and passion under his thumb.

It was subtle work, work that required many training sessions and would continue to require them for the unseen future. Megatron was far from being fully trained, but Rung was confident he would be enthusiastic once they established contracts. Megatron was chomping at the bit to be put to task, and Rung would be damned if he disappointed him.

He had yet to speak to Megatron of his plans, but he knew they would have plenty of time to go over it when they were negotiating contracts. What Rung wanted from Megatron was likely not more than he was willing to give, but Rung would have to make sure they got there safely. While Megatron forged ahead, Rung laid down the foundation of their relationship behind him. Eventually they would be racing down well trodden boundaries, where Rung could truly have Megatron come undone for him. 

Rung felt giddy just thinking about all the fun they would have together, all the games and service and pleasure they could share. He hoped with his whole spark Megatron was just as excited as he was.

Distracted from his petting, Rung focused back on Megatron as he shifted. The larger mech was a lighter sleeper than Rung thought he could ever witness- just the disturbance of Rung’s methodical rhythm had him stirring. 

“Shh, sh,” Rung hushed, laying his hand across Megatron’s neck. He had noticed when he did that before that Megatron had relaxed under his touch, as if using the weight of his hand as a substitute for a collar. Megatron often wore his collar during aftercare- he didn’t usually feel ready to remove it until after he resurfaced completely.

Megatron had dropped in Rung’s care before. The first time had been messy, with Megatron pulling back and resisting Rung’s attempts to tend to him. It had been an emotional event, until Megatron had finally broken down and allowed Rung to fuss over him- only because Rung requested it for his own aftercare needs. Megatron was surly and distant when submissive, but Rung was certain it was only because he was still coming to terms with his feelings. Rung could be patient. 

Besides his need of delicate care, Megatron was an exemplary submissive, and Rung intended to pull that excellence out of him. 

Megatron’s body twitched, his engine churning as he stretched his limbs and changed positions. He turned with his back away from Rung, spreading out within the tarp that bound him. Rung let him shift away, taking the time to lay beside Megatron and pry away part of the tarp for his own use. There would be much to talk about, but for now he was happy to simply be.


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After important discussions, Megatron and Rung play a little differently.

Contracts were negotiated.

Rung had started the process by serving them both fuel at the bar of his kitchenette and laying down his datapads with bright optics. One for Megatron and one for himself. 

“I’ve compiled a list,” Rung said, motioning to the datapad. “Beyond my expectations of you, this is a list of things that I would enjoy we do together, or things that I think you would enjoy based on my experiences with you. Please feel free to strike any you do not consent to, or tag them with inexperience. Our contracts should be reflective of what both of us want, not only my desires.”

Looking over the datapad had Megatron’s spark spinning fast. The first thing on the list was _fisting._ Below that was a clarification for valve or exhaust pipe, so Megatron could concisely outline his limits. An inferno brewed between his thighs as he read the next line- _fuel intake fisting._ The list went on, detailing any number of acts that Megatron had barely heard of. Many of them instigated feelings he didn’t understand.

“We can always renegotiate things you’ve stricken,” Rung assured, coaxing Megatron along. Megatron realized he must be taking too long to respond. “Better to be more conservative than to do any harm to yourself.”

Megatron struck valve fisting from the list with Rung’s permission, tagging it with a glyph signifying a soft limit. The difference in their size was a deep consideration for his decisions; part of their arrangement was Rung’s request he always be at his most natural state of mass. While the difference was great, Rung always seemed to be able to make him feel small. It was strange thinking of himself like that, even stranger to think he was doing so fondly. Megatron pushed the feeling away to deal with later. He marked several items as unsure or indications he didn’t have enough knowledge. As he came down the list he found _objectification._ Something in him stirred.

“Can you tell me what this would entail?” Megatron asked, highlighting the glyph and waiting for Rung to follow up on his own datapad. “I don’t have any experience with it.”

Rung’s optics twinkled, a smile creeping up his faceplate. “I’m so glad you asked. Feel free to ask about anything,” he added, before he pulled up a page and sent it to Megatron’s pad directly. “Objectification is the act of using another mecha as a service object. It could be sexual, such as an interface aid, or it could be something more… innocuous.”

“Yes?” Megatron pressed, glancing through the article. He admired a picture of a shuttle bound into a kneeling position, pushed forward while another mech rested their legs on his back. It sent stirrings of arousal through Megatron. 

“Other times mecha can be used as furniture, like you see here. I find it very desirable to have a partner larger than myself to bow and take my weight, as if they were a chair.” Rung was watching him as they spoke, optics tracking up and down Megatron’s frame like prime fuel. Megatron couldn’t help but shiver. Rung added, “Is this something you’re interested in, my dear?”

The pet name had Megatron curtailing his panels from trying to open. Whenever Rung spoke to him with such confidence, such familiarity, it made him run hot at the thought of being put through his paces.

“Yes- maybe,” Megatron said before doubling back, unsure of how enthusiastic he wanted to be. “I like the idea of being put to use with my whole frame, not necessarily sexually. Would you… ignore me?”

“Do you want me to?” Rung was perfectly methodical with his questioning, leaving Megatron to squirm under his unbreaking gaze.

“I don’t know,” Megatron blurted, cheeks heating at the very thought of Rung perched upon his back, of being used while unacknowledged. “Maybe.”

Rung had by now learned that Megatron’s “maybe”s were often a stopgap to a “yes.” Not always, but frequently. 

“We can detail a scene with it at a later point in time,” Rung insisted, motioning to their contracts. “If it’s alright with you, I would prefer that be a scene that we conduct at _Visages._ Not that I don’t think we couldn’t pull off a scene like that in private, but if you would enjoy being tormented and teased as I ignore every signal you give me that you are lost to your charge… Having other mecha around will give you an audience to perform for.”

A shiver rolled under Megatron’s armor. He directed his gaze to the datapad in front of him and not on Rung’s spark window. “I think… I would like to plan a scene like that in the future.”

It was a bold admission. Megatron hadn’t yet asked Rung for anything specific. He rattled his vocalizer and shifted under Rung’s gaze. He sat straighter, taller, as he thought of what his dominant might think of his posture. “I do not enjoy being the center of attention when I am submissive.”

Nor when he was the dominant in an arrangement. Megatron preferred deflecting attention into his submissive, curating a public scene with the intent he was merely an instrument to draw out his partner’s most primal reactions. It was easier to be on the outside of that spotlight, simpler when he was not the one being ogled, but bringing forth that virtuosity.

“That can be arranged.” It was a promise when Rung said it. Megatron could feel it in his tone of voice, like steel emboldening his glyphs into walls. Rung motioned to the datapad, encouraging Megatron to continue.

They continued with Megatron’s trepidation waning. Even afterwards he was consumed with thoughts of being Rung’s chair. 

* * *

Megatron shifted in his rope restraints, finding they tickled more than the chains he was used to. He knelt on all fours, more vulnerable than he would have preferred, with his weight resting squarely on his forearms that were folded and tied tight together at the forearms. Submission came easier to Megatron if he had the illusion of choice taken away- in reality he could snap the organic rope with a twitch. The control he was made to exert over himself was the real allure. His panel was already open, leaving him exposed to Rung’s mercy. 

He could feel Rung’s gaze on him, hot enough to strip paint and so intense it made his helm feel heavy. He almost felt as if he were swimming through his own consciousness. 

A servo on Megatron’s wide aft pulled him back to the ground, reminding him of where Rung was. Having anybody behind him, especially while bound, was taxing for him. Poorly patched battle protocols lit up his HUD with warnings that an enemy combatant was behind him. He steadfastly dismissed the warnings and ignored the protocols, though he couldn’t do anything about the way his armor tensed up automatically. 

“Shhh,” Rung hushed, though Megatron hadn’t said anything. He shifted as Rung’s servos slid along his armor seams, tickling gaps and cables that otherwise wouldn’t have been accessible. Rung’s tiny fingers delved into spots Megatron has rarely had stimulated in his entire functioning. “Relax your armor, please. I won’t be training your valve today. I have other goals.”

Rung said it like they hadn’t planned it thoroughly, as if Megatron didn’t know what they had very meticulously mapped out for their scene. He definitely _did not_ squirm as Rung used his free hand to fondle Megatron’s anterior node. 

When he was given no response, verbal or otherwise, Rung slapped Megatron’s aft with a sharp _clang!_

“I said relax your armor.”

“Yes, Master, please forgive me,” Megatron vented out, breathless already. The title tumbled from him like Vosian wine, rich and taboo. He had felt silly, at first, but Rung had been patient and encouraged him. Rung had insisted it should feel right to call him master over anything else. With time it became less embarrassing every time he said it. 

Megatron pulled a line of code from his frame type protocols and triggered his armor to relax manually. As it flared and released steam Megatron shuddered with the relief of it, his core temperature given some reprieve. He settled with slightly more comfort.

“That’s a good drone.” Rung patted Megatron’s aft where he’d struck, then moved lower. He dragged his fingers along the slit of Megatron’s valve, moving the copious lubricant around with splendid charge rising in his wake. “Tell me which part of you I’m going to train today. I want to hear you say it.”

“My tailpipe, Master,” Megatron mumbled, cheeks burning. Shame bubbled under the surface of his EMF, but no anxiety. He hadn’t had anyone play with his aft before, but it didn’t hold the same trauma his valve did. Most of his feelings were a confused mixture of excitement and embarrassment. 

“So I can hear,” Rung coaxed. It only made Megatron’s cheeks burn brighter. 

“You’re training my tailpipe, Master,” Megatron said, loud enough for Rung to hear him clearly this time. He could feel Rung’s hands sliding over him with tender detail, leaving him running hot with desire. 

“That’s right. You’re going to tell me how it feels while I play with you,” Rung insisted, his slick fingers rubbing above Megatron’s valve. He’d learned the stretch of protoflesh between his valve opening and his aft hole was called his perinneal bridge, something Rung had insisted he learn. The thought distracted him as Rung prodded at his aft port, one thin finger slipping in.

There was little Megatron could describe, with one digit inside him. It was intrusive but not painful. Rung screwed it in and out of him with precision, making Megatron whine as he was stretched open. The finger exited him then, and Megatron heard the sound of synthetic lubricant being spread over hands, and then felt a drizzle of it against his hole. The finger was back, working into him with persistence. 

“Tell me how it feels, drone,” Rung purred, his free hand holding a knot that was tied right above Megatron’s aft, causing his breath to hitch. 

“Hot,” Megatron blurted, wishing he could wipe the drool from his chin. He twisted in his bindings, growling when Rung swatted his ass. He was overwhelmed by just his dominant’s fingers. Processor struggling to spit out glyphs, he managed, “Stretching. No pain.”

“Good, good. Those are good feelings,” Rung hummed, his free hand caressing along Megatron’s waist. It roamed his thigh platelets and hovered around the base of his spike, where he circled his fingers around the width of it. Megatron’s whole body twitched as he stroked up the length of his cord, then back down again. Rung’s servo was smeared with lubricant, causing his fingers to glide like oil across his leaking shaft. “You _will_ tell me if you need more lube.”

Diving deep under his submission, Megatron realized he had been given an order. He was rocking back into the hands on him, in him, leaving him raw and open. Having his spike stimulated at the same time as his aft port made him forget his anxieties. Megatron shuddered out, “Yes, Master. More lube please.”

The digit pulled out, the sound of more lube. Two fingers pressed into Megatron’s taut hole with little stretch. The second finger slid in like it belonged there, like Megatron would be incomplete if Rung were to stop touching him. A burst of humiliation made him lower his helm against his forearms. A large part of him struggled against the acts being done to his frame; the part of him that was his pride decried how he writhed like a whore on Rung’s fingers. A softer, more delicate part of himself encouraged him to surrender further. 

“Keep talking to me,” Rung instructed, his voice pulling Megatron like a lead back to the surface. The field of his dominant bled out around him, creeping along his frame to reassure him he was safe. It was enough to bring him back to his body.

Megatron lifted his helm, venting deep as he focused on the sensations of his frame. He wasn’t losing control of himself, he insisted to himself. No, he was gifting his control to Rung. He was still the one in charge. Megatron croaked, “I’m ashamed to say I like it, Master.”

“No shame,” Rung hushed, his fingers spreading inside of Megatron. There were less sensors in his tailpipe, leaving him with only a strong pressure against his insides. “This is for you to enjoy. If you didn’t like it I would be doing something wrong.”

“I like it,” Megatron murmured, voice hitching as Rung curled his fingers inside his asshole, pressing against all sorts of sensors he’d never stimulated before. He was panting as he said, “More.”

“Ask nicely.”

Megatron growled, only for Rung to remove the hand around his spike. He spit out a curse. “Please, Master. I’d like you to play with my port more.”

“I suppose that will be enough for now. I have plenty of time to make you beg.” Rung deigned to touch Megatron’s spike again, slick hand teasing the biolights along the underside. At the same time he pulled his two fingers out of Megatron’s aft and filled him again with three. The stretch was exquisite. Their size difference made it easy for Rung to stretch him open without pain. Every push back with his hips slid Rung’s hand on his cock. Every shift of his frame had him moaning without abandon, the liquid heat of his aft spread throughout his frame like sticky tar until all he could feel was Rung’s servo in him. Megatron whined when Rung let go of his spike, leaving him enveloped by the sensation in his port.

“More,” Megatron demanded, optics flickering out as Rung plunged deeper into his aft. He barely remembered himself, “Please.”

“Good drone,” Rung crooned, both servos working in tandem to pull Megatron towards the crest of his pleasure. Another finger pressed against Megatron’s hole, sliding in alongside its neighbors. The tug along the rim of his port stung just barely, causing Megatron to clench. “You’ve almost got my entire servo, drone. Do you like knowing your greedy port is going to swallow everything I give it?”

“Yes!” Megatron cried out, body trembling with every twist and thrust of Rung’s fingers. Warmth flooded his tank, pooling throughout his entire frame. He felt hot all over, heady and wading through the thick of his arousal. His hole felt loose and open when Rung pulled his fingers out to spread his aft, torturing him with his examinations. Megatron clenched down, port fluttering at his dominant. Desperate, he whispered, “Please, Master.”

“I do love when you beg. So pretty,” Rung sighed, wistful and flush with want. He spread more lube along his servo, and then drizzled some directly into Megatron’s port. Sparks zapped up along Rung’s forearm as his servo slid into place within the lax hole, his thumb pressed against his palm. “Get ready, drone. You’ll have my servo in you.”

The press of Rung’s whole hand was barely different from what it had been before. He pressed up against new sensors, different walls and clusters of node networks. Megatron had no idea having his port stimulated could feel so amazing, had never known he could be made undone like he was now. 

“What do you have to say?”

“Thank you, Master,” Megatron gasped, a shallow overload pulsing through him as he said it. His spike twitched, though no ejaculate emerged. His port spasmed, intense and tight around Rung’s servo, before going lax.

“Now, now, while that was impressive… I don’t believe I gave you permission to overload.” Rung released Megatron’s spike to rub his hip flares. He hummed as he thumbed the sharp tip. “It seems to have only made you needier. Have you ever had a port overload before?”

Megatron could feel the words falling from his vocalizer, but none of it made sense to him. He babbled and pleaded, and somehow managed to shake his head as he continued to push back against Rung’s servo. He was alight with sensation and his spike begged for an overload. Outside of his frame Megatron could feel himself slipping and losing himself to Rung’s mercy. 

“Perhaps I’ll overload your port some more,” Rung purred, tone turning sinful as he leaned over Megatron’s frame. His hips pressed against the back of Megatron’s thighs, his modesty panel right up against the larger mech’s sopping valve. Megatron nearly sobbed. “You like that, don’t you? I must say, you’re gorgeous when you overload. It makes me want to ruin you.”

Then Rung was pumping his servo in and out like a piston, Megatron’s slack hole swallowing him deeper. Rung’s servo was small enough and shaped just so in a way that was entirely different from a spike. It lit up Megatron’s sensornet like a tire fire, heavy and thick in his vents. Every time the heel of Rung’s servo stretched him open had him moaning and spilling lubricant between them from his clutching valve. 

Megatron realized he was speaking, the words no clearer than they had been earlier. He was too far gone in his own helm, saying things that he couldn’t even comprehend. Rung was no longer stroking his spike, leaving him to fuck himself on the orange bot’s servo.

“Making pretty promises,” Rung murmured, free hand stroking Megatron’s inner thigh. Another orgasm pulsed through the larger bot. “Don’t offer anything you can’t make good on, drone.”

Megatron nearly collapsed as his overload consumed him. He whimpered against his arms, frame still moving with Rung’s steady rhythm as he was laid bare. He didn’t even know what he begged for, but he was desperate for it.

Rung’s hand gripped his spike again and Megatron’s engines roared in response. The steady pumping along his cord had him pushing harder against the servo in his ass. As he felt another overload approaching he begged, “Mercy, Master, _please!”_

“Mercy is granted.” As he spoke Rung pulled his whole servo out of Megatron, leaving him open and clenching as he overloaded. Transfluid spurted from Megatron’s spike, pooling beneath him. Rung squeezed the base of the engorged cord in his hand, milking as much transfluid from Megatron as he could. “That’s a good drone. So messy.”

Megatron sobbed into his arms, hips tilting back in search of stimulation. Every part of him craved Rung’s touch, begged for it, even when he had nothing left to give. He was unsure if he had anything Rung wanted at this point, or if his desperation was enough. He ached for _something,_ though he wasn’t sure what. 

“Shh,” Rung crooned, pulling a cleaning cloth from his subspace. He wiped his own servo before he crossed the berth on his knees to stroke Megatron’s helm. “What a good drone you’ve been for your master. I’m so proud of you.”

“Want you,” Megatron rasped, leaning into Rung’s servo. “Empty. Want you in my valve.” 

He was desperate for something, anything. He needed Rung in him.

“That isn’t your choice to make,” Rung told him, all business. “However, I can think of something else to fill.”

Megatron watched with foggy optics as Rung opened his panel, shifting onto his knees in front of Megatron. Rung’s spike slid out of its housing, tapered at the tip and adorned with lovely blue biolights. Megatron found his mouth opening before Rung could order him. 

It wasn’t the first time Megatron had sucked his master’s spike. Rung’s petiteness worked in their favor, allowing him to slide his spike into Megatron’s throat with ease until the larger bot’s olfactory pressed against his spike housing. There was something erotic about sucking Rung down to the root, enough to satisfy the itch in his thighs. 

Rung held Megatron’s helm still as he used his intake, every shallow thrust made poignant by a moan. Rung’s hips moved steady at first, and then erratic as he came closer to his overload. 

Megatron felt blank as his throat was fucked, allowing him to be nothing but Rung’s toy, his pleasure drone. It left him feeling warm and empty, soothing in a way nothing else could match. He felt at peace. 

Transfluid leaked around Rung’s spike as he came, pulling out to paint Megatron’s lips with his spill. They were both breathless.

“Swallow it all,” Rung ordered, cupping Megatron’s chin. He waited to be sure Megatron would comply, massaging his throat as he licked his lips. Rung admired the swollen derma, remembering the feeling of them around his spike. Megatron truly was a sight to behold in his subjugation. “Come back to me, darling.”

Megatron only shook his head, bowing against his forearms. Rung saw the way he trembled and hiccuped and leaned down to unclasp Megatron’s arms with a quick pull of the knot. He forced Megatron’s helm up to meet his optics. “Did you hear me?”

Megatron nodded, but still his optics darted away. Rung continued his stroking. “We’re done now. You performed with excellence, my dear. I’m going to remove your restraints and we will begin aftercare.”

Rung could feel something like disappointment in Megatron’s frame. That wouldn’t do, but with Megatron nonverbal they would have to see it through. Rung made quick work of the rope, folding it and placing it at the foot of the berth, then pulled Megatron into a sitting position to wipe him down. 

“We’ll talk when you’re ready,” Rung insisted as he wiped transfluid from Megatron’s abdominal panel. Next would come a wash and a polish, which Rung would take great joy in. 

When they had moved to the washracks, halfway through the polish, Megatron regained his voice, “I wanted you to frag my valve.”

“And I told you it wasn’t your choice to make,” Rung repeated, moving from one of Megatron’s shoulders to the other. “If you feel you’re ready for that then we can try to do so outside of a scene. I think the first time I penetrate you should not include too much kink.”

Megatron grunted in return. Rung had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time they spoke of it.


	6. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung and Megatron have a public scene come to fruition.

“What do you hope to gain from this scene?” Rung coaxed, a datapad in hand. He had taken up residence in Megatron’s lap, holding him hostage until Rung was certain they’d done enough negotiation. There was a plan. Negotiation, then they would drive to _Visages_ together and their scene would proceed. Afterward they would recuperate in an aftercare room before driving back to Megatron’s habsuite where they could decompress. It was new, but not outlandish. Megatron could do it. 

“I want to service you,” Megatron insisted, tone laced with conviction from his very spark. His spiked pauldrons were tense, but not from apprehension. He was _eager._ “My whole frame, not just parts of me. Let me be the vessel through which you find ecstasy.”

“Trust a poet to utter pretty promises,” Rung hummed, pretending he wasn't smiling behind his datapad. His antennae quivered in a way that made Megatron ache deep in his spark- at the same time as his array. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I get the service I deserve.”

Rung paused long enough to have Megatron frothing beneath his thinning self control. Sadist. 

“Tell me your limits regarding outside players to our game,” Rung commanded, as easily as if Megatron were already his drone. 

“I don’t want them to touch me,” Megatron admitted without shame. Rung had impressed upon him to have no shame of his limits. “Nor do I want them to focus on me. I want you to steal the spotlight.”

“Good. No one will touch you, I’ll make sure of it.” Megatron appreciates how much Rung safeguarded his submission. Rung always said he cherished it, would protect it like a treasure. His actions made his glyphs that much more powerful. “When we get to _Visages_ I’ll have you kneel and I’ll put your collar on. After that I’ll be checking in with you exclusively via commlink.”

Megatron realized, partly dazed, that Rung was waiting for him to respond. 

“I would enjoy if you were to ignore me in favor of yourself.” It was not information that was new to Rung, but it was powerful for Megatron to request so boldly. This would be their first public scene, and despite his confidence in speaking his mind, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Then I will. I was thinking I could have you on all fours, bound at the joints. You’d make a lovely table, wouldn’t you?” The way Rung spoke was assured and confident, like he knew Megatron would agree. And he was right. 

Intake suddenly dry, Megatron nodded along. “Yes. I would like that.”

“Not a table, but a throne.” Rung curled his fingers around Megatron’s helmet, tugging him down until their lips almost touched. “You’ll be the perfect seat to display me.”

This time Rung did kiss him, and Megatron felt his entire body turn to jelly when he did it. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to throw Rung down and ravish him there on the floor, to bring Rung to ecstasy and completion with the whole of his frame. But not now. He could be patient. He would show Rung he could. 

“I’ll bring myself to overload while others watch. Would you like hardline feedback, while that happens? I know that hardlining is something you have on your soft limits, but I find that while doing objectification it can heighten sensation you otherwise wouldn’t experience.”

Right. Still negotiating. 

“No,” Megatron said with a hum, thumb stroking over Rung’s arm. “I want to be denied. I have no desire to overload at all if possible. Maybe… afterwards?”

“Would you like me to pay you sexual attention during aftercare?” Rung asked, clearly compiling their negotiation on his note taking application. Megatron was certain he would receive a copy shortly. 

“I’m unsure, but I like the idea of it,” Megatron said, warmth bubbling up in him at the thought he would have to wait while Rung took his own pleasure. “Nothing intense. Perhaps you could just touch me? Kiss me? I will likely be nonverbal. I’m not sure if I will even want the overload.”

“Do you want that to be your choice?” Rung asked, his voice softening. 

Megatron shivered just considering what could come of his decision. It was his choice whether or not he got to choose. He curled his servos tighter around Rung’s frame until their chests bumped. “I’d like it if you would give me what I rightfully deserve, based on your opinion of my services.”

The smile that overtook Rung’s features was priceless, not to mention sinful. Rung typed a few glyphs onto the datapad with a quiet hum. 

“Good answer.”

* * *

“Kneel.” Rung’s finger pointed exactly where he expected Megatron to do so. 

Megatron shifted under the pairs of optics he knew were watching. Even as he sunk to his knees, servos resting on his thighs, he could feel the burn of being watched. He’d done scenes in public with Ratchet before, he wasn’t adverse to being seen. It was the fact they would see him submitting without that punishment, would see him bowing readily to Rung’s will. He was not known for being put under Ratchet’s thumb peacefully. 

His anxieties fell away as Rung motioned for the collar. Megatron presented it from his subspace, lowering his head and baring his neck to his Master. The way Rung’s servos moved with fluid intent, smoothing the fabric flat as he clasped the obsidian together. As soon as the collar was closed around his neck, Megatron signaled his modesty panels to slide aside.

“That’s a good drone,” Rung hummed, thumb brushing over the engraved clasp of the collar. When he tilted Megatron’s helm up with silent permission for eye contact, Megatron nearly vibrated out of his armor. He was diligent, staying still and quiet for his Master until he was directed. He ached to be told he was good again. 

Rung tugged him up by both his servos, leading him over to one of the designated spaces for a scene to take place. It was marked with red lines to indicate no one was to encroach on them. They would put on a show, but there would be no other participants. Rung maneuvered him to the wall and pointed down once more. Megatron dutifully knelt once more, his shoulders losing tension as Rung said, “Stay.”

Megatron tried not to focus on the mecha that his collaring had already drawn. He was a well known patron of _Visages,_ it was only reasonable that people gather to watch him. Even if it wasn’t him giving the show. 

Rung was adjusting a padded slab to just the right height, leaving Megatron to stew on his knees. He watched the way Rung cranked the knobs until the slab was positioned _just so,_ and then, looking satisfied with himself, turned to Megatron once more. 

“Mount,” Rung commanded, just as Megatron caught sight of Ratchet across the room. He tensed up, but shifted his attention to Rung’s orders. He crawled the meager space to the slab and lifted himself up and over it. Seemingly, it was too short for his arms, until Rung circled back around him with rope in hand. 

With tender care, Rung pushed his arm up until his hand rested by his audial and then tied him into position, the rope looping between an anchor point in the slab so the same could be done for his other arm. Once both his arms were trussed up, leaving him putting his weight on his elbows, Rung moved to his legs, where he tied Megatron’s calves to his thighs. 

Megatron shifted on the slab, finding it allowed him to distribute his weight comfortably so he wouldn’t strain his joints. He relaxed, finding the position to be more comfortable than not.

 _[Comfortable?]_ Rung pinged, fussing over the knots he’d tied. It was a comforting rustle in the background as Megatron sunk into his role. 

_[Yes. Very.]_ Megatron couldn’t help but take notice of how Rung’s electromagnetic field, usually so collected and calm, trickled around them both in a wash of arousal. He welcomed it as he leaned into the slab, allowing it to hold his weight as he slipped deeper into his role.

Part of Megatron was already numb and floating as Rung circled him, examining the knots of his bondage. He felt weightless. Another part of Megatron reminded him of Ratchet’s presence. He tilted his helm up, glancing to where he’d last seen his other dominant.

Ratchet had come closer since then, approaching with a cocky smirk. Megatron turned his unfocused gaze to the floor when Ratchet tried to catch his optics. Megatron listened to his Master greet his dominant and shuddered.

“Beautiful piece of furniture you’ve got there.” Megatron heard Ratchet say. It lit a fire in his tank to be denied presence between them, talked about as if he really were just an object to be discussed. 

Megatron could feel the smile in Rung’s field. Rung’s frame stood between him and Ratchet, a perfect shield to hide behind with his field licking out and curling around him, comforting and warm. Rung would keep him safe, even from people he trusted.

“Isn’t it?” Rung used his field to keep Ratchet’s away from Megatron, leaving his own field the only thing his submissive could feel. Megatron didn’t want to be acknowledged during their scene and he took that very seriously. “I’m about to put on a show, if you’d like to stick around. Outside the lines, of course.” 

“Understood.” Ratchet nodded and took a step back, giving the pair their space. “Maybe sometime we can set up a play date, all three of us.”

Megatron’s cheeks burned. Damn Ratchet and his flirting! This wasn’t a time to get excited about future endeavors, or to even consider sharing this side of his submission with Ratchet. He needed it to be uncomplicated, to plan. 

_[Yellow,]_ Megatron nudged from his comms, squirming under the weight of his bondage. If Ratchet was going to be here, watching their scene, then he needed it to be on his terms.

“This isn’t the time to discuss that,” Rung said firmly, though Megatron could tell he was still painfully polite about it. “You’re welcome to enjoy my show, but I expect it to be me you’re watching.”

“Stricty a viewing party,” Ratchet agreed, nodding to Rung. “I’ll make myself comfortable.”

Megatron relaxed as Ratchet turned around to find an open seat in the lounge, leaving him to return his focus to himself and Rung. If Ratchet was in the background, he could pretend no one else was there to see him lower himself under Rung’s divine servo.

Rung had already begun the task of climbing Megatron’s body by the time he could rationalize it was time to _start._ As he shifted atop Megatron’s flight decking, Rung pinged him, _[Are you okay?]_

 _[Better,]_ Megatron rumbled over the connection, optics half shuttered as he focused on the weight pushing along his back armor. _[Wasn’t ready for Ratchet.]_

 _[You should talk to him alone before we even consider playing together, all three of us,]_ Rung chided; though he sounded concerned more than disappointed. He toyed with one of the knots down by one of Megatron’s arms, stroking it until he met a shoulder seam. Rung pet the cables surrounding the piston joint in order to pull a full frame shudder from megatron. _[Give me a color.]_

 _[Green,]_ Megatron shot back, field lashing out fiercely to ensure Rung of his strength. _[I want your absolution.]_

Rung didn’t push him for more. Megatron appreciated that about his Master. He was only asked once and then it was up to him to speak up. He trusted Rung not to let him sink too deep, but other than that he was allowed to soak in his headspace, to push his boundaries as he pleased.

Megatron delighted in the charge he could feel transferring through their touching plating. The sound of Rung’s modesty panels sliding aside distracted him from the sensation of floating. Even through his multiple layers of armor he could feel the heat of Rung’s valve bearing down on him, heels against his aft. 

Rung laid over his back, the form of him unassuming and near weightless. Megatron could barely feel the spread of his form, instead feeling him through his field. Rung was eerily still, though his field pooled around him with vicious arousal. The sounds he was making were enough to pressurize Megatron’s spike.

Megatron’s frame rocked with the efforts it took to keep his composure. The bonds around his limbs could be easily snapped if he let himself lose control, it was his duty to stay within his bondage. Megatron allowed himself to sway with the rhythm of Rung’s field.

Rung was splayed out across Megatron’s back without shame, one servo busy between his thighs as the other stroked around his spark window. If there were anything Megatron was truly mournful that he couldn’t witness it was the way Rung’s spark glowed behind his chest piece. It would pulse and waver behind the glass, aching to expand. Megatron’s mouth watered imagining the taste of it. 

_[I hadn’t had the foresight to think I would want your spike,]_ Rung hummed into his comm, gasping out loud as he toyed with his anterior node. Megatron could hear him teasing himself and ached to be the one causing it; he wanted to be the one making Rung pant with desperate abandon. _[Too late now. You’re bound like this and I think I rather like it. The knots look so pretty on you.]_

Torture. It was pure torture. 

Megatron didn’t even think about the assortment of optics slovenly drinking his performance like cheap wine. This display wasn’t for them, or for him, but for Rung. Rung deserved to be the star of the show and rake in the awe of the public. He deserved the glow of the spotlight for once, and it was Megatron’s job to present him in the most enticing way he was able.

 _[You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me set you up like a chair instead of a table. You’d make a lovely throne for me, wouldn’t you? With that glorious spike to cuddle with, I’d want for nothing.]_ Rung’s comms were sinful, leaving Megatron flexing against his bindings. A steady stream of lubricant dripped from his valve into a heated puddle behind the slab while his spike hung heavy between his thighs, twitching every minute he was denied. 

Megatron was certain Rung was trying to kill him.

The decadence with which Megatron was treated to by Rung’s voice had no name. There was no Cybertronian glyph that could express the pure, tumultuous power in the way Rung strung him along by his command. 

Wet seeped through the overlapping armor of his back. Megatron moaned low in his throat when Rung’s field expanded and then receded to signal his overload. He was all soft, shallow whines and relieved sighs when he finally peaked.

The charge from Rung’s overload grounded in Megatron, ramping his own charge even higher. There was no relief for him, even as Rung came undone above him.

Megatron lay quietly, obediently, even as his array ached with the pressure of his arousal. His spike was dripping on the floor, mixing with his valve lubricants and his Master slumped against his back. It took all of his patience, down to the last threads of his control, to keep himself contained. His role was to be the vessel of his Master’s pleasure, whatever Rung’s interpretation of that was, and Rung had made him his table.

Drifting in the fight with his own impulses, Megatron didn’t notice when Rung shifted until he noticed Rung sliding to the ground. Immediately his processor was fully alert, the threat that Rung could be leaving him at the forefront. He considered the ramifications of breaking his bonds mid-scene.

A hand on his pauldron pulled him back to shore, hooked him until he could dig into the sand of consciousness. 

_[Just cleaning up, I’m right here. I’m going to unbind you soon.]_

Rung’s voice cut through the fog of his submission so easily, it left Megatron’s tired gaze trailing after him. He watched his Master wipe up the fluids he’d left beneath his open interface array.

Cold seeped up through Megatron’s array in a delicate swipe along his valve and spike. He tried not to flinch, but couldn’t help the short jerk of his hips. His equipment was still unbearably hot.

Off came the ropes. Megatron’s limbs fell open around him to free the strain of his hydraulics. He didn’t dare move his frame other than to sink down further, only to realize it made his neck ache. 

_[Up you come.]_ Rung pushed at Megatron’s shoulders to urge him up and off the slab, which Megatron knew logically had to be cleaned. He rolled off the slab without grace, laying sprawled out on the floor while Rung took care of cleanup. 

_[Again. To an aftercare room. I can’t carry you, but I can lead you,]_ Rung assured, his servos slipping into Megatron’s. He had no choice but to rise as his Master commanded, his frame following while his processor tripped over his choices. He followed Rung’s lead along the edge of the room, until Rung opened a door and motioned to the berth inside.

Megatron didn’t wait to be told. He collapsed, curling in on his frame. His bondage had made everything easy, gave him physical boundaries he was required to stay in. He felt too big now, too undone, like he was spilling over the sides of his own mind.

Rung’s touch made it better. Having that hand coming over his abdomen and along his abdominal buttons was a comfort he reveled in. Rung’s servos were fondling his ventral plating, teasing his charge up further. 

“You did so well for me,” Rung sighed, fondness bleeding through his field. Megatron hungrily drank from his approval, turning his frame until he encased Rung in his arms. “Shh, that’s a good drone. I’ll give you what you need. You want an overload, don’t you?”

Megatron nodded, hopeless in his wordless moans. Rung’s servos pressed down on his button panels, stimulating charge along the surface of his armor. With fingers small enough to get between the gaps of Megatron’s armor, Rung exploited every seam and opening in his plating to push his charge higher.

Rung’s thumbs dipped into the creases of Megatron’s thighs, the joints wobbling as Megatron weakened. He crumbled under Rung’s touch, leaving him a convulsing mess. Electricity arced across his frame, grounding out into the berth. He went limp, pressure drained from his entire body in one final sweep.

“That’s it. You did well. I’m proud of you for how well behaved you were. You deserve a treat.” Rung was cradling Menatron’s helm in his lap, stroking along the top of his helmet as he praised him. He unsubspaced Megatron’s favorite tarp first, wrapping it securely around him before he pulled out two individually wrapped energon treats. 

Stubbornly, Megatron clenched his jaw and refused the treat at first. Rung’s consistent, steady petting eventually coaxed him into opening up, accepting the candy. This one was soft and acidic, melting over his tongue and reminding him of his physical frame as his armor loosened at the same time, steam filtering out from underneath. 

The next treat was accepted with little fight. It was tart, something Megatron greatly approved of. He made a note to tell Rung his preference when he was in a better frame of mind.

“Do you think you’re ready to be washed and polished?” Rung whispered, leaning down to kiss Megatron’s pauldron. “It’s alright if not. We don’t need to rush.”

Megatron wasn’t sure the answer to that question. Part of him wanted to float in the limbo of his headspace forever, for as long as he could get away with. But Rung was also tugging him back to land, encouraging him away from his languid floating.

“Soon,” he whispered, voice ragged. He didn’t want to be pulled to the surface yet. He was enjoying being pampered, so much that he buried his face into Rung’s middle and had no intention of emerging.

Rung couldn’t help but smile down at his submissive, holding what he could of Megatron’s upper body. “You did well. I couldn’t stop from teasing you, you were so warm underneath me. Your performance was excellent, you’ve impressed me.”

Megatron nestled closer against Rung’s spark, engine purring as he soaked in the emptiness of his frame and processor. It was almost time. He treasured the sweet words of his Master, and he would follow him back to solid ground again.


	7. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron gives Rung everything he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the road! Thank you to everyone who's kept up with this and thank you to @cheshire-hearts for being my wonderful beta and sounding board.
> 
> If you want to talk abt kinky robots hmu @goreygooey on twitter

Rung was wrist deep in Megatron’s aft port when he brought it up. He laid on his back with his legs tied open, wrists in magnacuffs above his helm while Rung tortured him. Megatron was certain Rung’d had it planned for when he was just teetering on the edge of an overload, ready to pull him back and deny him again. 

“I think you would look good like this, blindfolded with all of your pretty holes filled up.”

Instead of making him pause, like the thought of penetration usually did, it just made Megatron clutch down on Rung’s servo and gasp out an overload.

“My, my.” Rung’s servo withdrew with care. Once it was free he wiped down and sprayed sanitizer along his hand before wiping it a second time. He reached back in, both servos fanning across Megatron’s thighs as he spread him open. “You didn’t ask permission.”

“Master, please— have mercy,” Megatron keened, tensing against the magnacuffs for Rung’s viewing pleasure. He writhed with charge even after his chilling overload, shameless in his display. “I wasn’t ready…”

“Excuses. Your pretty face can only get you out of punishments so many times.” Megatron didn’t even get to blush at the compliment before Rung was squeezing the base of his spike. The organic rope looped around Megatron’s thighs stretched taut against his armor with every flex. “Perhaps I should take your overloads from you until you can appreciate them more. You’re better trained than to overload from some risque words.”

Megatron sobbed, hanging his helm low against his chest as he bathed in Rung’s disappointment. He had to atone for his sins against his master. 

“Poor thing,” Rung cooed, cupping Megatron’s cheeks in both servos. “You’ll get them back. I want you to wait for them, for you to show me how much you value your overloads.”

Megatron could only nod along in mute desperation. He panted into the open air, cheeks flush with arousal and desperate for Rung’s touch. It was then he remembered…

“I have a scene with Ratchet next orn,” Megatron whined, the thought that he would be forbidden overloads through it a very real danger. He ached for absolution. Even post-overload he was needy and desperate for more of what Rung could give him, whatever it was. 

“Then tell him your master has taken your overloads from you,” Rung said, as if it were the obvious answer. It probably was. “He will understand. In fact… it might even motivate him to perform for you. But your attention should be here, right now.” Rung tapped his chest to indicate himself. Megatron nodded with him, desperate to show he could be obedient as he locked his optics on Rung’s spark. “I want you to tell me what was so tantalizing about what I said that you disobeyed me.”

Megatron trembled as Rung stroked his cheek, keeping his gaze glued to his master and basking in his comforting field. Even come undone he knew he was safe, that Rung wouldn’t let him fall. Megatron licked his lips to a shine. “It made me…” He paused, turning his helm away, only for Rung to force him back with servos on either side of his helm. “It made me want to do it for you, Master. I want to give every hole I have to you.”

“You tempt me with your pretty words,” Rung murmured, thumb dragging down Megatron’s lower lip. He wistfully sighed and gave Megatron’s cheek a pinch. “It doesn’t get you out of your punishment. No overloads until our next scene together. You’re a good drone, I know you can do it. Get creative with your Sir.”

Megatron sagged. His engine whined, but he didn’t dare voice his disappointment. He only wished he had better appreciated his earlier overload more. “Yes, Master.”

“That’s a good drone. Now, I’m going to call a close to our scene.” This was more formal than Rung had ever been at the end of a scene. It gave Megatron the feeling that it wasn’t really over. “I’m going to plan how I’m going to take your valve. We will discuss it after you’ve completed your punishment. Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Megatron echoed, feeling… giddiness of all things rising up in his field. Ridiculous though it was, he couldn’t help but find himself full of indulgent glee at the thought of Rung curating a scene to take his valve.

The next look Rung gave Megatron was one of complete adoration, and that was when he knew that the walls had come down. Rung sent the code to the magnacuffs to release them and Megatron unfolded. He slumped forward. As he always did, Rung caught him.

“You are incredibly attractive when you beg for mercy,” Rung said, sounding sheepish. Megatron didn’t dare pull his helm out from Rung’s lap. Rung was stroking his audial, not bothered by his lack of reply. “I’m so proud of you for the strides you’ve made. This is a big breakthrough.”

Megatron managed a grunt, curling tighter around Rung’s body as he became more aware of his own mass. He felt too large for his own perception. He didn’t have to wait long; Rung pulled his tarp from subspace, tucking it neatly around the both of them. It was comfortable when Rung was wrapped up with him. Safe.

* * *

Two. Whole. Decacycles. 

That was how long Megatron had waited.

And now Rung was scheduled to come and see him, where they would negotiate the scene where Megatron would give up his valve. It was rankling every plate of armor up his back with anxious anticipation.

He had spent time waffling between letting it happen and calling it off. Rung would understand. Rung would be disappointed but not upset. It wouldn’t even be the type of disappointment that hung heavy on Megatron’s pauldrons, Rung would even make sure he didn’t feel guilty. Rung would take care of him no matter his decision.

When the door pinged, Megatron sent the command to open it without checking. He strode to the door, already considering what he would do when he saw Rung on the other side of it. When the mechanism of the door finished its slow iris out Megatron was stuck standing there, still not having made up his mind.

“It’s good to see you,” Rung proffered. He rocked on his heels as he entered Megatron’s hab, polite as always. “I had meant for us to come together sooner than now. For that I apologize.”

“My forgiveness may be hard won tonight,” Megatron admitted through a scowl. He was not known for his self restraint when it came to overloads. It only roused a charming laugh from Rung. Megatron couldn’t believe he found it attractive.

“Are you itching to get started right away?” Rung asked as the door closed behind him. He took Megatron’s servo and lead him to the sofa, where he could thoroughly ruin Megatron no doubt.

Megatron was feeling annoyed enough he was willing to push at Rung. “I’ve been itching since the end of our last scene.”

Rung didn’t rise to the bait. “Your patience will be rewarded in time. Now come,” Rung patted the seat beside him. He was giving Megatron a look that made him reconsider all the disobedient thoughts he was considering. “You’re going to tell me how you’d like me to take your valve.”

Megatron sat, servos folded in his lap. He wasn’t sure how to start the negotiations, too busy pondering on how it was  _ happening. _ Rung wasn’t going to let him back out– well, that wasn’t correct. He had given Rung the power to decide for him, taking away the hard part. It was already decided, all he had to do was come to terms with  _ how. _

“I’m worried I won’t be able to do it,” Megatron whispered as he stared down into his folded servos. “I  _ want _ to. I want to do it,” he asserted, gritting his dentae together. “But I’m not sure how I will react.”

Rung nodded along with him, waiting until he had said his entire piece before he gave his own, “I understand you have concerns. I was considering how I would make you feel more comfortable. My first thought being that I don’t think I should personally be the one penetrating you.”

Megatron’s helm jerked up. “You’re not-”

“I’m not going to give anyone else the gift you’ve given me,” Rung assured, reaching out to clasp Megatron’s servos in his own. “Nothing quite so tantalizing, darling. I was thinking of using toys.”

“Oh.” For some reason Megatron was disappointed of all things. He wasn’t sure why. The thought of Rung loaning him out to other dominants was… complicated, and something he would address later. Perhaps they could come up with something together, and Ratchet would likely be game. Megatron cleared his vocalizer in an attempt to regain composition. “Toys would be… fine.”

“Do you want me to penetrate you?” Rung asked, the telltale sign of concentration on his faceplate reminding Megatron he was taking notes. “I was thinking a prosthetic would be easier for you to reconcile, but if you’d like it to be me I would be honored. As you know, my spike is not very large and it would not be difficult for you physically.”

“I don’t know,” Megatron admitted, refusing to meet Rung’s gaze. “I want it to be your choice.”

“Are you sure?” Rung assessed, giving Megatron a once over. He didn’t look totally convinced.

“Yes,” Megatron insisted, pushing his field out to brush against Rung so he could feel his conviction. He didn’t know what he really wanted, but he did know he wanted Rung to be the one to do it. “I’ll use my words. If I need to stop.”

“Then let’s discuss your valve specs.”

Megatron had never had such an in-depth conversation about his own anatomy. Rung scolded him for not knowing the safety parameters of his array, though Megatron couldn’t find a single time in the past six million years that information would be useful. And he told Rung that. He only wished his master hadn’t looked so smug when he arched his thick brow ridges.

Their negotiation was already pushing him down under the still water of submission. He could feel in the way Rung’s field lapped against his own that his master felt it too; the excitement, the anticipation, the giddiness at a new game to play. Megatron knew when he resurfaced he would find the wash of recognition and intimacy much more symbolic. Now, now it felt like fire in his regulators as Rung showed him suggestions for toys.

Size wasn’t what caught his attention. Rung scrolled through photos of toys on a datapad, cubes of fuel beside them for scale. Lucid purple swirls captivated Megatron, reaching to stop Rung’s servo so he could swipe back to his toy of choice. 

“This one,” Megatron rasped. He admired the textured whorls at the base where they would surely stimulate the pleats of his valve once hilted. It had a fake piercing through the head, meant to tease at deep nodes within him, and a lovely ridged flare at the tip. It was smaller than the others, but that was okay– he preferred it, even.

“A good choice,” Rung said, though Megatron was certain he would have responded that way at any choice that he made. Rung tucked away the datapad and reached out to tug Megatron by his chin into a kiss. 

Megatron came away from the kiss trembling, his willpower completely withdrawn. Rung had every part of him.

“I want you to blindfold me,” Megatron blurted, his cheeks flushing a lovely shade of magenta. He couldn’t help but dive in for another kiss that left him breathless in the wake of Rung’s enthusiasm. “You… When you told me what you wanted to do to me. I want to be blindfolded.”

“You’re a delight,” Rung sighed, holding Megatron’s face in both servos. Megatron was nearly covering him, looming above and herding Rung’s back against the arm of the sofa. Rung didn’t look concerned or intimidated and that was really what made Megatron hunger for more. Rung stroked down the scar that ran across his lip components as he murmured, “I’ll take care of you.”

“Mm,” Megatron hummed against Rung’s fingers. He kissed Rung’s thumb, and then leaned forward to catch his master in another kiss. His servo traced along a seam in Rung’s inner thigh, outright avoiding his interface panel. He growled, husky and promising, “First, let me take care of  _ you.” _

* * *

This was it. His last chance.

Megatron knew that it wasn’t  _ really _ his last chance. If he safeworded Rung would return control to him, would make sure he recovered and rose above his failure. Rung would insist it wasn’t a failure, but he couldn’t process it that way. Either way, he didn’t intend to fail.

The collar clasped around Megatron’s throat and he relaxed into position. Never had it felt so freeing to release his modesty panels. The fluttering in his tanks wasn’t the same anxiety that often grew into a looming beast behind him in a scene outside his comfort zone. It was the twist of excitement at the thought that Rung would take all of him, and all he had to do was accept.

“You’ll get an overload tonight,” Rung vowed, the conviction in his tone turning Megatron’s knee joints to jelly. “You’ll have to earn it. Don’t think you’ll get off quick.”

“I haven’t overloaded in so long, Master,” Megatron rasped, his thirst for relief driving him.

“You’ve waited this long,” Rung chided, “You can wait a little longer.”

Megatron stayed the scowl he would have liked to don, knowing Rung would scold him for it. He should be enthusiastic for his Master. Rung forced his gaze up, a hum of interest lighting up Megatron’s audials. That was when he noticed the blindfold tucked in Rung’s palm.

Rung opened his servo once he took notice of Megatron’s observation. The blindfold was simple, sheer gray metal and meant to magnetize at the temples. He didn't have to order Megatron to submit to the blindfold.

Megatron leaned forward, shuttering his optics in a show of faith. When the blinder was attached he activated them once more to find he still had no visual input. 

“Good?”

Megatron swallowed oral lubricant. He gave a brief nod, not trusting himself to speak lest he lose his nerve. There was something electric about not seeing what Rung could be doing, leaving him to wonder what could happen. He  _ knew _ what they were going to do. It was planned out meticulously and delicately and he knew every step, 

“Position four.” Rung’s voice came from behind him and Megatron trembled. When he was blindfolded Rung often crossed behind him, one of the only times that Rung pushed that boundary.

Megatron shifted his weight onto his knees, straightened his back and folded his arms behind his helm so Rung had access to his whole frame. A shiver traveled through Megatron’s protoform as he felt something soft drag along his pauldron. The riding crop that Rung favored so. Megatron didn’t tense like he used to, grateful for the point of contact between him and his master.

“You’ve been very good since your punishment began,” Rung hummed from somewhere to Megatron’s side. If he listened he could choreograph exactly where his Master stepped, could even predict it. He forced himself to let go of that desire. “I think you deserve attention for it.”

Megatron’s vents hitched as Rung’s deft digits stroked the wide open seams along his back. He ached for the way Rung strung him along with feather light touches that were both tender and possessive. His weight shifted, nearly unseated, when Rung’s servo boldly slithered between his thighs to cup his valve. Hips tilting forward, Megatron gasped.

Rung’s fingers stroked between the heated folds of Megatron’s valve, smearing lubricants across the whole of his array in a wash of attentive pleasure. The way Rung caressed his node with every slide up had Megatron chewing the inside of his cheek to keep quiet.

“Give me a color, darling,” Rung whispered from behind his submissive.

Megatron’s arms ached from holding them above his helm so long. Rung had yet to bind him. Usually that meant he was expected to maintain his position without exception. Lips parted, all that came out was a moan.

_ [Green,] _ Megatron panted into his comm, his enthusiasm breaching through his field. He rolled out his EMF, pulsing  _ trust/anticipation/desire _ to his Master so he wouldn’t be mistaken.  _ [Bind me, Master?] _

Rung hummed where he stood to Megatron’s left. He heard the magnacuffs before he felt them, the click as they opened alerting him to his Master’s response. “You asked so nicely, I can’t help but give you what you want. You’re quite the spoiled drone, you know.”

A shiver tortured Megatron. He relaxed into the restraints as Rung clipped them together, finally finding the edges of his boundaries. The cuffs made everything easier for him; concrete boundaries to stay within instead of nebulous commands.

Rung’s servo returned between Megatron’s thighs, fondling him as he struggled to maintain position. The sensations weren’t like when Rung had played with his valve before- it had felt tainted then, heavy with the memory of those who had come before him. Now he felt warm and slick, his passage clenching on nothing as Rung teased his anterior node. Megatron bucked his hips in an involuntary twitch, prompting a low moan. The memory was still there, but he knew Rung wasn’t Them, Rung would keep him safe.

“You’re beautiful,” Rung sighed. He sounded in awe, as if he regarded Megatron with reverence. Never had Megatron felt so raw and desired. Bearing down with his hips, Megatron attempted to catch Rung’s fingers within his channel. Rung clicked his glossa in disappointment. “Now, now, none of that. You’ll get it in due time.”

It wasn’t fast enough. 

“Please, Master,” Megatron begged, hopeful that he could prevail over his Master’s assured self-control. He turned his helm, trying to find which way Rung had stepped, only for the riding crop to tap his cheek.

“You heard me, drone.” Rung’s beloved fingers were no longer teasing him. Megatron longed for his torturous touch again.

“Yes, Master,” Megatron murmured, bowing his helm against his chest. Rung always knew how to lower him further than he ever could have imagined. Even in the depths of debauchery he yearned for Rung’s guiding light. He slumped his shoulders but didn’t dare lose position.

Rung continued his gentle touching then, fingers gliding between Megatron’s tender folds. Every sinful slide stimulated more than he had ever experienced at once. It was overwhelming, and not enough at the same time. Without the visual input to see where Rung was touching him everything was twice as intense, sensation multiplied.

“Please take pity on me, Master,” Megatron begged, feeling very much the lascivious pet Rung expected him to be. He pushed against the servo teasing between his chest plates, a soft gasp shaking out of him as Rung tapped his cheek with the riding crop. It wasn’t like the beginning, when it had elicited frustration and aggression from him. Now it was a reminder, a nudge to urge him back into position. It was easier to accept when he knew Rung wanted him to succeed for himself and not just his master. Above all, Rung wouldn’t hurt him.

The shuffle of Rung’s pedes cued Megatron into his placement. Deft fingers returned to stroke the etchings along his chest, drawing lurid gasps out of him. Something smooth and pliant lifted his spike from below.

As Rung drew the crop up the length of Megatron’s cord he circled his abdominal buttons with the tips of his digits. The dual input hooked Megatron under a spell of sensation, drawing broken moans whenever Rung pressed down on his buttons. The riding crop slithered away.

Only for it to rear its ugly head by slapping right against the curve of his valve. Megatron howled. His pauldrons shook with the effort it took to contain his frame’s reactions and hold position. He wanted to flinch and curl in on himself, to coil tight around his hurt so he could recover— and Rung wouldn’t let him. Megatron sobbed at how plainly his master laid him open. 

“Perfection,” Rung exhaled. He soothed the sting of Megatron’s valve in long, purposeful strokes along the plump outer pleats. Lubricant streaked along gunmetal grey thighs, forming a veritable puddle beneath. Megatron relaxed into the praise and the touch. “You’re almost ready. You passed my test.”

Derma parted. All sorts of complicated feelings welled in Megatron’s swollen spark; the sting of the riding crop had brought back dull memories of previous abuse, but no accompanying anxiety. Rung encompassed all of him, leaving no room for fear or doubt. The thought of using his safeword crossed his mind. Intake dry, Megatron begged instead. 

“Please, please,” his vocalizer crackled with static, desperation coloring his field. “In me— I need—“

“Shh,” Rung hushed, thumb tugging Megatron’s bottom lip as he caught his chin. Megatron heard the riding crop fall somewhere several paces from them. The thumb on his bottom lip pressed in to glide along his smooth glossa. Megatron fought not to gag. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Megatron’s engine revved and then petered out into a whine. The loss of Rung’s touch left him gawping and hungry, the coals of his submission barely stoked. The energon rushing in his audials made it impossible to listen for his footsteps, making the servo that stroked over his valve opening that much more of a surprise.

Two fingers sunk into Megatron without preamble. His vents rattled, engine roaring as his hips jerked forward. Rung’s servo moved with him, just out of reach and just too little pressure. Drool seeped down Megatron’s chin. His valve sucked Rung in greedily, swallowing around his fingers in a way Megatron never would have thought possible. His valve was wet and eager, all sense of shame and propriety lost to him.

“You didn’t even notice me put in two more digits,” Rung hummed, the vibrations of his voice reverberating between Megatron’s receivers. “You’re so open for me, almost ready. I would love to have my whole servo in you, but I think you want something else, don’t you?”

Megatron nodded with vigor, not trusting his words. So much of his frame was relying on the input directly between his frame. His pauldrons quivered with the force it took to keep himself at Rung’s behest, even as he yearned to fall back and spread his stabilizers for his master to take advantage of.

“Use your words. I like it when you beg, drone.”

“Please–” Megatron begged, his vocalizer hoarse. “Please, I’m begging, Master, please frag me, I want you in me, please–” Megatron cut himself off with a sorrowful cry as Rung’s fingers left him open and wanting.

“Shh,” Rung hushed, his servo brushing against Megatron’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I have what you want. Fret not.”

Rung’s glyphs were accompanied by something cold and suggestive against the apex of his valve. Megatron shuddered as the toy slid between his valve pleats, spreading him open much the same Rung’s fingers did. The anticipation kept him arched and waiting. His hips jerked forward, seeking stimulation and eager to be impaled.

“Give it a moment, my love… There, just like that.” Rung was guiding him then, lifting him up on his knees and helping him to scoot forward just enough he could feel the false spike rubbing against his hole. Megatron allowed Rung to lower him.

When the pierced head of the dildo pressed in Megatron nearly choked. It wasn’t nearly as large a stretch as he had anticipated, rather the spike slid snugly into his channel once the flared tip pried him open. Megatron sank down slow, gasping with the effort it took not to throw himself down on the floor. Rung had expectations of him; coming undone was allowed, within boundaries. He desperately did not want to fail.

Megatron sat, panting on the false spike as it glided against connection nodes that hadn’t received direct charge in millennia. A fire was raging within his loins and Megatron was just a lost soul caught in the gales of smoke. Rung had him, every piece of him.

And then Rung nudged his knees further apart with a gentle pede. Megatron forced himself wider, finding himself taking just that much more of the false spike in his passage as he did. Megatron cried out, chin against his chest as new nodes were enlightened ring by ring. 

Thin fingers curled around the edges of Megatron’s chest plate. Rung weighed down, lowered Megatron deeper onto the dildo until his valve pleats rested against the base suctioned to the floor. The spike widened at the base with its textured whorls, stretching the rim tight at its widest point. Right where all his major nerve clusters were. 

Rung showed him no mercy. Once he had demonstrated he  _ could _ take the spike all the way to its base that was all Rung wanted to see of him. Megatron moaned as his master pulled up then, guiding his motions in a steady rhythm of rise and fall. Rung never made him pull up too far, just enough to stimulate the top of his valve at the same time as his rim. Once Megatron picked up the rhythm, Rung’s servos wandered. He groped between the gaps in Megatron’s waist, digits snagging and squeezing hot cables.

“You’ve made quite the mess.” Rung’s tone was impassive, as if none of this were affecting him– and with the blinder on Megatron had no way of assessing if that were true. He writhed in his isolation, only beholden to Rung’s voice. “It’s a good thing I adore you so, otherwise I might be crueler. I could have you clean your mess up with your intake while you bounce on that toy you love so dearly.”

Megatron’s moan was swallowed by a tender kiss, thin fingers clutching his faceplate to direct him. The scenario of being made to lick his own fluids off the floor twisted his gut in both arousal and disgust. The complex emotion welled up out of his throat and into a weak sob.

The servo that had held his chin had moved. Smooth fingers put pressure on Megatron’s anterior node in firm and dutiful circles. He moved with purpose, as if he wouldn’t be satisfied until his goal had been met. Whether the goal was torture or Megatron’s overload, it was still unclear.

If Megatron believed in Primus then he would have forsaken Him. He would have laid down his faith and bowed before Rung in a true heretical gesture of worship. Rung was more a God in that moment than Megatron ever could have believed in.

“You may overload,” Rung said, his grace on Megatron’s node bearing down even harder. “But only because you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.”

Megatron fought his frame to get closer to overload, the spike stimulating him in new and frightening ways that had him confused and cycling down tight around it. Rung’s touch guided him, pulling him towards the shattering overload he knew was waiting for him. It tightened in his hips, pinching a cable that he ignored in favor of chasing pleasure, and Megatron found himself toppling along the crest.

“Let it happen,” Rung commanded. Being ordered was easier than being given permission. Megatron’s whole frame bore down on the spike, his calipers cinching down tight as his vocalizer cut out into a string of binary and static. Megatron finally went still, his overload awash over him like a solar flare until it leaked out of him like hot oil.

As the charge drained from his system, Megatron fell into a beautiful black expanse of submission. He floated, weightless in the nothing that he could be, and the nothing he was becoming one with. All he could find himself grounded in was the ache in his valve and the burn in his spike.

The blindfold came away from Megatron’s helm slowly. His first optic-full was of Rung, smiling wide and field lapping out with his approval. Megatron went lax. Master was pleased with him. A broken sob left him, several tears of lubricant crawling loose from his iron tight control. His tears were wiped away with gentle servos.

“Perfect.” Rung’s voice was like a blanket. Megatron leaned into the touch and chose to shutter his optics. There had been something so comforting about the dark.

Rung wouldn’t let him disappear. “You did everything right, my dear. I’m very pleased with you. Don’t fret about your master, you’ve done everything I wanted.”

It gave Megatron room to expand, to relax. Before he knew it, his wrists were unbound and he was slumping forward on top of Rung’s decadent frame. Megatron was hypnotized by his spark window, an urge to taste his master rising through his hazey processor. Instead, he nestled his face into Rung’s neck and put forth his best effort not to crush him.

Out came the tarp. Megatron allowed himself to be tugged towards the berth, where he could collapse with comfort. Only once he was settled on the berth did Rung tuck the tarp around him before taking residence at his helm and allowing Megatron to nestle into his lap.

Megatron waded through the ocean of his submission melding with his pride. It was a funny thing. He was both proud and ashamed to have overcome all obstacles and allowed Rung ownership of him. His field roiled with the sting of someone having taken him the same as so many others had, and at the same time he felt safe that he would never have to experience the ills of the past ever again. 

“I did it,” Megatron muttered, still dazed. He sounded as if he were barely clinging to consciousness.

“You did it,” Rung affirmed.

Though he felt like he’d run a marathon, Megatron drifted into a light doze knowing he had overcome an enormous hurdle.


End file.
